


Echoes Lime & Crimson

by BleakistheEnd



Series: The Line of Marble [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Ancestors, Culture Shock, F/F, F/M, Flagrant War-Crimes, Geo-Political Optimism, Interspecies Romance, Post-Invasion, Reconstruction, Religious Conflict, Shattered Timeline, Shell Shock, Taser Shock, 『Wait hol' up』
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2020-07-22 19:15:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 63,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19976794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BleakistheEnd/pseuds/BleakistheEnd
Summary: She'd done it. She'd 'won.' But for Dolorosa it remained a hollow victory.Terra remained a strange world filled with unpleasant surprises, some as alien as the human who'd stuck beside her. Others terribly familiar with a sting that no xenos creature could hope to rival. The road doesn't really end.





	1. Bound & Burdened

#### \- Unified Front, Ashdod Autonomy, Free City of Ashdod, 'New Circassia'

( ♍︎ ) "I'm sorry."

Sayrii Maryam, to some few the Dolorosa, massaged the bridge of her nose. As much keep her hand from fidgeting as it was to keep herself from clicking in frustration. Both were poor form around humans, but the latter tended to be much more unnerving. Even to those familiar with trolls. Sayrii needed all the disarming she could being almost twice the size of most humans and towering four feet over the other humans she found herself in the company of. Not that there was much to be done. In her dark grey sweeps she still cut a striking figure; a set of ivory white fangs sharp as knives stretched down past her lower lip, her eyes retained an odd brightness that drew looks Troll and human to her slit jade pupils. The silver piercings that had once dotted her long ears had been sold and replaced by polished bone studs, a gift from Murtah. The black tinted alien bones did not help much. Sayrii had done what she could filed down all of her claws bar her thumbs and had taken subdued dark clothes fit for a clerk. A dull grey long cloak, skirt, shoes and a shirt. Considering her presence it felt almost laughable at times to even bother. 

To say nothing of her untimely core. One growl or blink of the Rainbow Drinker was enough to draw every eye in the room. Fortunately there were only five in the back room of the requisitionary with her.

Green-tinted amber on white, contrasted by rings of sleeplessness. Layla's look was rarely fair, a perpetual glare turning her face hard and making her look older than she was. Like someone already halfway through life rather than at the first quarter. Her skin was dark, her hair a brown-black rope behind her head of ferocious knotting that when undone rivaled troll hair in its curling. The clothes of a discharged soldier covered her, as they did for many in the Front, her jacket sleeve was laced with armbands that designated her position as a requisition shop owner, a combat medic and a 'Mamālīk.' 

Layla was one of the few humans who could look the Dolorosa in the face, along with her brother and their shared ward. Hussein himself was looking awkwardly away from both women. A little taller than his sister and much wider, his eyes were more green than yellow, his skin darker but perhaps that was the contrast brought by a face stricken with paled scars. His long black hair and heavy beard giving him a purr-beast like mane. The black eye-patch that hid the mangled scar of his left eye socket hid seamlessly in the hair. He wore clothes like his sister, all military requisition bought on the cheap, with the vacant left pant leg rolled up and pinned over what was left of his thigh. An ancient pistol was slung upon his waist, arm patches bright pink and teal marking him as a member of the 'Fraternal Legion' and the local Militia. A crutch forged out of a half dozen broken firearms supported him. All the while their ward clung to his remaining leg.

'Mona' was as diminutive as they came. A hairs length under three feet, her lean figure and her four horns being stunted made Mona seem much smaller than she was at times. Not helped by her difficulty with standing up straight and fear of open spaces. Her bare forearms and lower legs revealed scars from time spent as a pilot, wretched spindling roots along the wiggler's extremities like biting ant tunnels formed in her hide. More were hidden by her clothes, a loose green jacket and long black shorts. Glowing eyes of green teal revealed her psionic nature, producing enough light Mona could find her way around no matter the time of day. In spite of the negligence and near feral state she'd been found in, there was a lucidity in her look. The small gold blood looked entirely aware some miserable news had come, the girl nervously chittering as Layla continued.

"The UF Veteran Bureau is just too consistent for Mechanii and Orgarners to take private contracts. I can't find anything that isn't oligarchic or an organ harvesting Op. I looked everywhere Maryam I swear but I found nothing. Hussein is on the waiting list and from the look of it we'll be waiting a year at least for just his leg. The eyes are a whole other issue. They need specialists and they won't even put you on the list for eyes if you have partial visibility. If you want your friend registered then you'll need to do it soon. That waiting list is absurd and it'll only grow from here. Internationales are eligible and even with the lack of papers its worth a shot. It's- better than nothing." Layla Kanafani sounded almost as tired as she looked. And she looked very tired. "Again, I'm sorry Maryam. Unless you're willing to make the trip out to another touch down site then its her only option."

"I know it is." Sayrii creaked, quelling a growl before it could begin. Her hand fell to her side as she forced a low breath out. "Well, thank you Layla. Really I would have spent who knows how long beating my head against the ballast for that result if you hadn't helped. I appreciate it."

She nodded her head, though her grimace made it apparent she was as dissatisfied as the Jade. How could she not be? They'd spent the better part of two weeks searching for a slap in the face. "You are the only one I can trust with Mona these days, it's nothing. And... I understand it. I-" Layla stepped forward, half craning her neck to keep eye contact. "I know what its like to lose people you care about, and to end up with someone who has it rough. I'll keep my ear to the ground."

Hussein's grunting laugh was genuine, coming as he clacked his crutch against the concrete floor. "I will have you know I'm in the best shape of my life."

"That is brought on by that ugly crutch."

"It's charming."

"It's going to give someone a heart attack or get you shot."

The bickering of Human siblings took Sayrii's attention for a moment, a small head pressing up against her head drawing the Jade back. Looking down to see Mona bunt her head against Sayrii's knee. "Dol'." What the little thing spoke came not in Imperial tints but the Kanafani's native tongue. For better or worse that remained to be seen, but Sayrii was just happy to see her exercising her voice.

Dolorosa gently knelt down and scratched at the little psion's head, earning small happy trills for her efforts. Both of her keepers stopped their fighting after a few more jabs and looked down to the sight of their ward rumbling like a purr-beast. Carefully picking up the little girl Sayrii passed her off to Layla, still trilling. "There we are." 

The tension in the room was gone, leaving an empty grayeness. Layla passed a final look up to the Jade Matron. "See you tomorrow Maryam?" The human woman managed.

"Of course." Sayrii bowed her head and turned, making her way out towards the back. Leaving the siblings and the packed room of supplies and goods behind.

Crouching her way out the back door, Sayrii stepped out into the grand city of Ashdod. Stepping out of the darkened alley way into the street, the air thrummed with life. Once a city of two hundred thousand that had been cut in half during the invasion, now just over four million called the proper city their home with another two million out in the hills of the surrounding Ashdod Autonomy. A quarter of that count was made up of trolls who had stuck around after the two life ships Degeneration of Flesh and Antillio's Member had been forced to touch down. The Degeneration into the waters off the coast. sticking out like an enormous dead beetle to anyone with a view of the sea. Member had crash landed out in the hills, almost crushing a small human municipality that had since grown to the point Ashdod had swallowed it up. Between the scrapping operations for the leviathan sized space vessels, the expanded port functions that accounted for four fifths of the entire Front's shipping and the first Void-Vessel port in the entire region, Ashdod had exploded outwards, upwards and downwards. Stolen, bartered and scavenged troll tech and psions allowing for unprecedented growth. New streets tunneled beneath the city which many trolls and human vagrants had rabidly filled, while above new skyscrapers crept higher with each passing day. 

In spite of her initial concerns, Ashdod hadn't been so much overrun by trolls as the other way around, en-mass migration to the loose autonomy had in fact scared off many trolls who had dispersed across the Front. In some ways, the woman called Dolorosa still wasn't used to the native denizens, even though she'd been here for three full human months. There were just so many of them, for a species without genetic castes humans grown infinitely more complex sub-groups that swirled all about in the flood of new arrivals. The most prominent group being the 'Circassian's' who accounted for a quarter of the local population. The area the Jade found herself working in was packed with them, the petty city and surrounding hills had turned into something of a haven for them. Their history had been long, being driven off again and again by other human groups, the autonomy proving to be what they hoped their final refuge. From every building the Jade passed she could see their flags hanging down from impromptu poles and windows. A bed of dark green marked by three crossed yellow arrows and seven stars. Each star one of their remaining tribes who had ventured here, long guardless swords and wide sleeve coats were a common sight on passing humans. But there were at least twenty other flags that hung down from windows. Only Gael could name them all. Words in a dozen different dialects buzzed past her ears.

Sayrii stepped out into the lively streets, through the roving packs of laborers, sailors and evening gallivanters. While one did not even need to look to find signs of the 'Long Summer' as the humans called the Invasion, the city was one that had thrived in the aftermath. Food Vendors hocked their wares filling the air with smells of Terran meat's and confections, the streets felt safe even in the night and were filled with faint music from the many street performers. All of it almost enough to hide the shrapnel and wounds on the old buildings, and one could almost forget the heavily armed gendarmerie patrolling about. Almost.

No trouble found Sayrii on her way home, the walk was not long and tonight the city's thrum eased the journey. Making the prospect of delivering the bad news somewhat doable. Until she gave it any thought. Not so much focusing on words but inclinations.

Outside the tall apartment building that they'd found themselves settled in, a mixed gaggle of rustbloods and humans were listening to a pair of performers the Jade was familiar with. Bound up in wide sleeved red coats and tall furred hats, the one played a small violin-like instrument while his compatriot performed with an accordion. Both men tipped their heads at the Jade's passing, Sayrii pulling a few coins from her pocket and tossing them to the already filled pot in front of the pair. Even though their building had been restructured with troll habitation in mind she still had to stoop to pass the front door. 

The entryway was barren and empty besides the mail boxes plugged into the wall and the solitary security officer, already looking half asleep as he leaned back against the wall. Halls breached out and a tall stairwell greeted her, this particular building lacked an elevator which was a pleasantry oft forgotten in the rapid construction and reconstruction. Troll focused buildings mostly. 

Ascending up ten floors, nothing paused Sayrii or slowed her, the noises of distant conversation from the branching floor hallways and a group of human youths punkishly slumming about on the eighth floor landing familiar. At least, until the final flight of steps. Near the very top of the building a speeding Rust tinted figure almost crashed into the Jade. Juchen's squeak of surprise was more startling than the near-collision. 

The petite Rust was a bright ascendance compared to the prior slave girl of the Impudent Arachnid. Grown out black hair voluminous and healthy, horns polished to a shine. The bright grin and eager caprine eyes made the scars on her face almost vanish. Gone were rags and replaced by the odd attire of a human waitress. A plain formal white shirt and a brown leather apron still stuck out, clashing with the rest of her. Juchen tittering back bowed down apologetically. "Oh! Sorry Matron!" 

It was difficult to begrudge her at the worst of times. "It's nothing dear. Off to work?"

"Yea, I'm getting even more hours so you won't see me at all this weekend." She chittered excitedly, moving to step down and be on her way, but a reflex stopped her. Turning back she clacked her pointing claws together. "Uh- just so you know, Avarayri's been making some weird noises. Urghal said and I also heard it."

The looseness of the statement paused the Jade. "What sort of noises?"

Juchen clicked to herself for a moment, one hand coming up to the cheap model of translator hanging on her ear. A necessity for trolls who oft lacked nuance for human languages. "Like... I don't know, I couldn't get the language to translate it. It wasn't urgent it was just kind of... Weird. She'd yelp for one of us if something was wrong."

Troubling, but nothing out of the norm. Unfortunate as it was. "Hm. Well, I'll see what that was about. Now off with you. I don't want you to be late at my expense." A gentle pat on the shoulder, still lined with scars from her time in Chattel.

Yet, Juchen grinned like all that had been naught but a foul dream and gave a parting bump of her head against the Jade's side. "Alright, see you later!" She turned and descended. Gone in a moment though her heavy footsteps remained. Fading too as she went on her way.

Everyone of the trolls Sayrii Maryam had escaped with had found a life like Juchen. While not all of them had healed their interiors as she had, they were all far better off. Coming into their unchained existence with a tenacity that could only be admired. Even Syhrag had improved and found work in a human cleaning service, after she'd finally gotten it through her thick skull humans lacked the ability shoot blood about like Spiked Dread-Frops. 

But...

With a sigh, Sayrii walked off towards her own apartment, ears straining for noise. True to Juchen's word an untranslatable hoarse stream of words flowed past. But even outside the door she couldn't tell what exactly what was being said. Sayrii pulled out her key and carefully opened the door.

The small apartment was as she'd left it. Sparsely furnished, the central proper room just large enough Sayrii could stretch her limbs out and stand upright without worry her horns would scrape against the wall. Possessing a single small window that provided the only light to the main room, it had been propped half open, allowing a little breeze with the city's light casting a low illumination. Against the back wall two piles of mattresses stacked head to head provided the tall troll with a spot to sleep, at the 'bottom' of the extended bedding a pair of plastic bags that held what little furnish they possessed. Tucked neatly against the opposite wall was a table and a tall-backed 'love seat.' It had been the only thing that the Jade could fit on comfortably. To the right were two doors, the nearest to the laughable culvert that was the 'kitchen' cut away, little more than a sink, a stove and a pathetic knee high fridge. The other held the bathroom, little more than a toilet, basin and a shower, but it was at least appropriately sized for Sayrii.

Sayrii did not focus on any of this, everything in the room was organized much as it could be. What drew her attention was her matesprite, her Other Half. Clothed in nothing besides a black pair of boyshorts and a heavy sheen of sweat. Gael was currently supporting herself by her remaining hand, doing what looked to be upside-down push-ups. Nothing was really left to the imagination from her sheer view of her back, her body seemed composed of only hard muscle, tendon and bitten skin now with such activity banishing anything else. The dull dusting of freckles and restored colour only highlighted the scars, a blanket of them covering her back and remaining arm, extending to the rest of her. Tears, strikes, long slashes and what had to claw marks shone under the perspiration. Her short brown hair was damp, an earbud in her working ear connected to a small human music device lying on the ground. _"Služba na- naša služba, čužedalʹna storona..."_

Dolorosa stepped into the apartment, quickly pulling the door shut as much for Gael's privacy as to hide the glaring flush on her face. The air smelled like human blood, sweat, and the Terran spice of mint. Gael carried on oblivious, lost in the endurance of her exercise and whatever lyric that she sang along to. _"Bujnaja goooo- golovuška kazackaja sudʹbaaaA!"_ Growling breathlessly to herself she completed one final lift, pushing herself back up far as she could. Content she let herself lightly tip, rolling down back to her feet. She pulled the speaker from her ear and immediately perked up in spite of her exertion, turning to face Dolorosa. "Heya."

Her face was as scarred as her back, chest likewise. Everything had healed as well as they could have hoped. But Gael had lost her sight permanently. Gone was dolent brown, replaced by a cloudy blue-grey without without pupil or iris. Her left arm gone aside a claws length of scarring.

The sight was particularly bitter tonight, so much so it took a moment for Dolorosa to respond. "I see you're keeping yourself busy." She clicked. 

Gael shrugged as she pulled herself up. "Gotta get back to peak performance."

"Ah." She swallowed to bide time, but already the human tilted her head a little to the right.

"You alright? You sound kind of out of it."

"I..." She couldn't tell her, much as Gael deserved to know Dolorosa's voice failed her. "Yes, you could say that."

"Well. Do you want to talk about it?"

Getting the human to open up in dialogue was usually good, tonight it just made Dolorosa dig her fangs into her lip. "Honestly I'd prefer not to now."

"Fuck. It's that bad?"

"No, but its just- Difficult. We can talk about it after you put on a shirt. Actually," She snapped her fingers in the direction of the bathroom. "Shower. I don't want you ruining a shirt in your state."

"Pft. Fine, banish me. I'll be back." She took a step forward, but stopped, turning about with a lecherous grin. "How long were you watching me for anyways?"

The Jade did not dignify the question with a response though she felt her face flush again. "Have you eaten anything tonight?"

"Just the last of those beans from the other night. But that was probably a few hours ago." Gael said as she turned back and vanished into the wash.

The noise of water starting brought Dolorosa back up to her feet. Trying to think of something that wasn't Gael naked or the imminent bad news. Stepping into the kitchen the pang of hunger was, for once, appreciated. Opening the fridge were their paltry food stores, a rapidly diminishing number of troll blood bags for Dolorosa along with some rather lusus suited food-stuffs for the human. With little subtly Dolorosa pulled out a bright lime green blood-bag and tore into it with her fangs, tipping her head back she drained the bag in three long gulps. After wringing the last few drops out her thirst faded to nothing, she tossed the empty plastic into the the trash bin beneath the sink and set to work. A serving of scrambled ova and low greenery, done in a few minutes. 

This was the sort of thing a troll fed to an older Lusii, though at times Gael resembled a lusus more than a human. The Jade scrapped the loose feed when it was done into a handled mug and returned to the love seat. A part of Dolorosa wanted to just leave the food on the table and roll into bed, but no. This couldn't be put off.

For better or worse she did not have to wait long, the shower shutting off and a few moments later Gael emerged. Somehow the towel wrapped around her waist was worse than the pitiable undergarment perhaps in how easy it would be to pull it off. Gael of course didn't care. Extended sightlessness had taken away any sort of shame she'd had around Dolorosa. Her head tipped the moment she came close to smell food, sniffing like a low stalkbeast she licked her lips. "Hey, that's nice."

"You think turpentine smells nice." Dolorosa had meant to put some weight behind her words, but they came out flat. More wear exposed than she wanted. It paused the sniffing.

"Yea, I think that. Doesn't make it everyone's nice of course." She tried to sound wry, but it was obvious her heart wasn't into it either. Gael popped up to sit on the arm rest beside her, taking the mug from Dolorosa. She whirled the cup, idly getting a hold on its contents before she tipped it up and devoured the contents. Gone before the Jade could even think of where to begin. "I'll take it there's no word on anyone for the arm?" Dolorosa creaked in frustration and slumped back into the seat. "Shit, I actually got it?"

The faint black mote she had let her draw a curt hiss. "Between drafts, dispersal and better options there isn't one I can find that isn't charging a fortune. Not one but two entire metropole worth of trolls crash down and I can't find one single accursed tenter! It's absurd." 

"Right." Gael said as she leaned over and placed her empty glass down on the table.

"Worse it isn't just Mechanii and the Bismethn, its anyone that could point me somewhere! I haven't an idea of what the UF must be bribing them to grab every troll with half a horn's worth of technical skill. Everyone of them either signed up with the local host or just- vanished with the frayed intolerable wind!" Dolorosa hissed down, restraining herself. "I'm sorry. I should have-" Done a dozen things sooner, was what she'd meant to say. A hand tracing up past her cheek to her horn paused her.

"Predicted the future? Rosa don't worry about it." Gael knew exactly where her weak-spots were. On instinct Dolorosa leaned into the hand massaging the base of her horn. "You drank something tonight right?"

"Of course." She clicked passively. "Do I sound as if I haven't?"

The calming hand came away and Gael adjusting herself. "A little bit. So, private isn't an option. What else have we got in terms of...?" She jabbed her thumb up towards her eyes.

"The UFVB here, hoping they'd be willing to accept you and waiting however long it would take, or digging into scapegraces and hoping some brigand can be bought. Something I'd prefer we not consider. Humans require far more deftness in bionics and just thinking about an eye implant makes me worried. Failing that, we'll have to leave to try another locale with trolls. No small trip." A low snort and a giggle came, about as far from what could be expected from one named Avarayri as one could get. "What?"

"Scapegraces. Is that as archaic as it sounds in Imperial?"

"Perhaps. Is there something wrong with that sort of language?"

"Nah, it's you." She pulled herself up off the arm rest, hand picking up the emptied cup. "Well, guess we'll need to decide at some point. Not tonight. Probably should get a bit more info on other big troll populations and everything before we commit. I can wait. A few more days won't kill us." A small whistle to herself, flat toned. "I'll clean everything up then. Unless you want to get worked up about the old lady thing again?"

Dolorosa rolled her eyes. "I did not get 'worked up' over that. My reaction was perfectly reasonable to such a discovery."

"You still sound worked up Rosa." Gael turned with a low grin, well aware of what she was doing. Dolorosa waited until she was gone from sight and for the noise of the sink in the kitchen coming to scoff. 

This was the Jade's first proper and lasting Concupiscent relationship. While it had gone considerably better than her pragmatic element had worried over, there had still been the occasional bombs they'd had to deal with. The most recent one had been Gael's actual age. In the local terms, Dolorosa was well over five hundred human years old, while Gael wasn't even twelve sweeps. Of course it wasn't an issue for Gael because she'd already made it abundantly cared it would take some deliberate element on Dolorosa's part to cause issues. 

But for Dolorosa? That was getting into 'cretinous rainbow drinker literature' territory. She already drank blood and thought far too much about gnawing on people she enjoyed the company of, particularly Gael. the Jade needed to save every inch of ground she could before she ended up pulling on some archaic cloak with nothing else and haunting the desert in the day hours.

Nothing to be done however, about that or their current situation. Better to relinquish it with dignity. Rolling up into her seat Dolorosa pulled off her shoes and footwraps, pulling off her coat and tossing it to the table before sinking back into the seat. Naught but the gently rumble of the streets below, running water and the clink of dishware to entertain her. Dolorosa could of course turn on the radio, grab a book or perhaps even just turn into bed. She did not, quietly waiting on the human and enjoying the coasting ambiance. The water cut away, a few final clinks and then came steps. 

Gael stepped lightly over to her clothing, pulling on a pair of boxers and a shirt, then took a few deliberate counted steps to her fallen music device. Picking it up she walked over. "Mind if I?"

"Of course." She needed no further prompting and mindful only of Dolorosa's comfort rolled up onto the seat. Crosswise with her head resting on one arm rest, legs draped over the other. What closeness forged chattel had remained in the both of them. Much to Dolorosa's comfort. 

After seventy miserable sweeps she could still find amenity in touch, a hand coming up rest in Gael's hair. Dolorosa had once been the keeper to the most stubborn creature to ever exist, one who had afflicted her with that strange desire for closeness that 'polite' Imperial society brutalized. Seventy two sweeps. That was how much of her life Mindfang had taken from her, having finally found the Imperial date after so long. In some ways it felt longer, in others...

Running a hand through Gael's hair, she didn't feel Two Hundred and Thirty Nine sweeps old. 

Not exactly sprightly feeling, but it did away with the worst wears of her day. The old close affections brought to full height by Kadarn's rearing had not been stolen from her. Dolorosa found herself purring as Gael fiddled with her device. "My darling damsel."

A subdued groan. "Okay, now you're stretching for these."

Dolorosa chuffed as a perverse grin found her. Her human had made a terrible error. "Well Dearest, would you prefer to be my slugabed maid? Maybe a feminal fizgig? Or perhaps even a-"

The subdued groan stopped her. "Oh alright, I concede full surrender to you and your superior aged vocabulary. Do with me as you will, oh wizened dame." Gael pulled her earpiece back into her working ear, activating the small device. The soft and indistinct noise of alien music found Sayrii, just enough she could catch the distant beat. If she wished, she could fiddle with her translator and try to find the language the music was in. But the didn't wish to. There was a comfort in it now, the alien element unfiltered relaxing as the warm body in her lap. For a time anyways, she could close her eyes, relax, and stitch together a plan for the future.

( ◉ )

Gael imagined if she'd told the younger and significantly more confused version of herself she'd end up being literally trapped in her own head without sight or hearing, it would dramatically up her suicidal ideations. Not that the current significantly more fucked up iteration of Gael didn't get that. She was just way better at strangling the Pernicious Imp before it could get started. She also had a big fuckoff anchor who was way too grabby and Gael was one hundred percent alright with that. In spite of everything.

Three months in Ashdod felt like nothing, a distance remaining between Gael and the world, even as she served as the intermediary between a band of former alien slaves and what was probably the biggest clusterfuck on earth. That actually didn't help, explaining what a 'Yazidi' was to a bunch of Trolls who had no grip on human Theology was kind of an all encompassing task. And that was the easy one. Informing Juchen, Murtah and Dolorosa why exactly the two dominant human groups in this area had wanted to gut one another and just how big a deal it was they were chummy had taken a full day.

But she'd done it, as they'd slowly needed her less and less. As things that had been impossible wore down to nothing. They'd found a safe place, the others had moved on, the Jade she'd stuck beside working her ass off to try and find someone who could make Gael a less useless piece of shit. A side effect of this was that Gael had slowly been left to herself. All her afflictions and problems had become impossible to ignore. Blindness, disarming, and partial deafness sucked. Particularly when that partial deafness became full deafness whenever the remaining ear started ringing, shrill and loud enough it wiped out everything else. Leaving her trapped in the black chasm that was her own skull.

During the waking hours this was a pain. But but it could be ignored and powered through, she managed slowly put what was left of her body back into full function. Acquainting herself with every inch of their room and the building they were in so she didn't trip around like an asshole. However when Gael slept it was a much more dire pain.

Watcher's watched. You could blind one, deafen one, cut their tongue out, plug the nose with cement and flay their hides, but sensation found its way regardless. It still came, filling her mind while a contentious and grappling nightmare remained. Gael was torn between the wretched shadow of Alternia that made what bones she had escape her body and the unceasing river of visions. Watchers might be led, but never bowed. But these nights it felt as if whatever ephemeral form she had was being used like a bludgeon, trying to desperately keep her from Alternia when it wished and shoving her back to Kadarn and Kadarn whenever it wanted. No choice in any of it. Watcher's watched, and that was it.

And of course, one couldn't really share any of that with other people, because that was nuts. 

So Gael grit her teeth and bore it. As she had. As she would until she kicked it.

She didn't get what a Watcher was, why, how, or anything else. She didn't have answers, she'd never had answers, just a river of might-have-been, yet-to-be, what-was and what-wasn't that was often horribly indistinguishable. But that was fine.

No, actually that was just peachy. 

Gael, in spite of being a fucked up mess at the best of times had someone to care about and vice versa. 

Dolorosa. If she hadn't been there Gael would have died in Mindfang's nightmare of a ship. Eagerly, trying to take as much of the Marquise with her as she could, armlessness be damned. Every extra tear, and drop of blood was one more ringing note on the echo that had been Gael's fading victory. A giant metaphorical middle finger to the fleet hanging in low orbit. But Dolorosa had been there and she'd been just... Awesome. Still occasionally made Gael want to screech to the heavens in frustration, but Dolorosa's inordinate pushing was a part of what made her... Worth. At times it still didn't process for Gael that a five hundred year old alien vampire lady was just as interested in her as the needy mess of an invert was in return. But hey. Life had been like that since she'd watched Thunder Bay burn in front of her via orbital bombardment. 

Looking back on it, it was just as mental as the Watching. Back in April the entirety of Earth had gone insane when they dropped the bombs and the gas.

Gael had fought against a planetary invasion. Gael had pulled off the mother of all distracting Hail Mary's to help stop said invasion, killing two hundred and ten Trolls in the process. Gael had been taken prisoner by said Trolls because she was a spiteful idiot that actually took out some important Trolls. Gael had been tortured by an alien Murder-Lawyer she'd somehow pulled a double reach around on. Gael had gotten to pat said Murder-Lawyer's giant pet monster. Gael kind of wanted to pat said giant monster again. Gael had gotten the name 'Avarayri' from the aliens for her spiteful suicidal mother of all Hail Marys. 

Gael had mentally burned to death. 

Twice. 

Gael had fought an alien Murder-Clown without a weapon in the middle of a fucked up alien Colosseum. Said Murder-Clown ripped off her left arm and had been manipulated by a Spider-Troll in full Buccaneer attire to _NOT_ kill her. Said Spider-Troll had tried very hard to get Gael on with her fucked up alien pirate crew, with a collar on her neck. Upon being refused Spider-Troll had revealed how not having anyone ever tell her 'no' had turned her into a excessive vindictive sadist. 

On said Spider-Troll's ship, while said Spider-Troll had been beating the ever loving shit out of her, Gael had managed to fall for the five hundred year old alien Vampire-Lady who, as stated, was really wonderful. Possessive Spider-Troll had done some vile unforgivable shit to the both of them when she realized what was happening, which to said nice Vampire-Lady was probably just the most recent shit in a long line of vile unforgivable shit. 

Gael had fallen into her first mutual 'thing' with the Vampire-Lady who had been due something nice happening to her sometime last century. Gael had managed to pull the Vampire-Lady back together, to the point they'd been able to escape the ship her Vampire-Lady been trapped on for more than a fucking century. Maybe two. Possessive insane Spider-Troll bitch had followed them back to _fucking EARTH_ having lost everything, in the midst of what was probably a complete mental breakdown because holy fuck that Spider-Troll was fueled on petty spite. 

Possessive insane Spider-Troll bitch had gouged Gael's eyes out. 

Nice Vampire-Lady had finally gutted the bitch who'd put a collar in her head.

Somehow, that nice wonderful Alien-Vampire had wanted to keep 'them' a thing. 

Somehow Earth had won. Somehow the Turncoat Trolls had gotten a chance. Somehow there was fucking world peace. Somehow a bunch of fucking inebriated Russians had landed on fucking Pluto last week. Some- _fucking_ -how Gael was still beside Dolorosa. Somehow Gael made her happy. There came a point where Gael had long since just accepted all the impossibilities and only now looking back on it did she realize the fucking insanity of it. 

Blindness, deafness, weakness and all the fucking 'somehows' the universe could throw at her be damned. 

Not that the universe had stopped pitching. Like now.

Alternias black sands, red rocks and vile green-grey cities had burned again, repeating the cycle. The senses and feeling of too many to count passing Gael's scattered mind. Fading at an overwhelming crack and a low ring. The nightmare didn't so much end as transition to the wreck of Gael's waking form. The biting return to consciousness dragging her back to new aches.

Gael's left arm felt like it was broken six ways to Sunday, which was probably hilarious to someone somewhere because that arm was probably just space-dust at this point. Her remaining ear was ringing like someone had blasted a shotgun an inch from her head. Blind and deaf and in pain and only after a moment did she realize some of the pain was physical. Breathing was admittedly hard to do when a pair of arms had pulled her into a deadlock, waking sense of feeling making apparent that the body almost covering her was vibrating. Couldn't even hear herself. Wow, thanks tinnitus, very cool. Gael noiselessly grunted as she tried feeling around for Rosa's head, waiting for the incessant drone to drain away.

A familiar cheek graced her hand, Rosa jerked but her grip eased up, allowing Gael a breath of sweat tinted air. Stale, more Troll smell than human. Could taste the salt and the weird almost gingery bite that came with it for trolls. Slowly it grew more distinct, a dampness of form, the panicked beat of the heart behind her and the low rumble of growling. Dolorosa's creak came at a dangerous pitch, slowly emerging as Gael's hearing returned. "Kh- Rosa what the fuck?" 

The panicked grip redoubled immediately as her body seized up. "There was- Something crashed- Something-" Rough words descended into growling. She felt like an animal that was about to attack. Or one backed into a corner. "I don't know. Outside that's-"

"Hey, focus on me okay."

"I-" She hissed before Gael raised her voice.

"You're freaking out. Fucking breath Rosa." Her hand shifted, from the cheek back to the back of Dolorosa's neck, feeling the first forced breath pass. It took a minute, slowly winding the older woman down from her near frenzied state, but little by little the rumble faded, the creaking rumble faded and the grip around Gael's chest eased. Panic fell way to exhaustion as she finally felt Dolorosa slump. "Better. Still glowing?"

"No."

"Alright."

"Recreant Void I... I despise that."

"You and me both."

She shifted, finally releasing her grip on Gael. "I'll go see what that was about."

The Jade pulled herself up and was gone from touch, leaving Gael half buried amidst the sheets. Sense of person between when Dolorosa was there and when she wasn't paled things like night and day. The low creak of a female Jade slowly standing coming. "You sure?" 

A pause. Audible, Dolorosa's tells stuck out to Gael like light to a moth. "I'm sure. I would have- I would have needed to get up in an hour anyways." It didn't sound like a lie, but it didn't sound fully believed. 

"It's morning already?" 

"Technically." She shifted as if to step away, but stopped and turned about. Gael felt her lean over, subtly was dead and buried as a warm sweat veiled forehead pressed against her own. "Forgive me I was-"

"Startled by some fucking idiot crashing into a fucking fire hydrant."

The Jade exhaled, Gael felt a finger pull at her shirt as Dolorosa's head pulled back. "Are you alright Dearest?"

"As fine as I'm getting." Gael immediately regretted her choice of words as she just felt it. The sudden stiffness and the prodding finger paralyzed. A flash of crimson and grey in her own skull made her snarl. "Sorry, but that's it. Get going, I'll be alright."

The gesture of a nod an inch from her head came, Dolorosa standing. Gael let herself fall back, burying herself under the blankets listening as the Jade made a quick haggard exit. Noise clear now. Hands pulling on her work jacket, wrapping her feet and pulling on shoes. The further she goes away the worse a picture Gael was able to paint. Almost unable to tell where she was when the door opened. Closing behind. Leaving the Avararyi alone in the darkness of her own head. The bite of crimson came again, making her flinch. Useless. A name. Useless. Kadarn. Gael growled as she struggled to keep herself in the strange pale space between sleep and waking, her only refuge.

There was nothing to do but wait. Wait for when she could see again. For when Sayrii was better. Then she could open that fucking can of worms that was the Signless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What kind of person names a literal city-ship housing millions after his reproductive organs? A guy named Antillio.
> 
> But, in seriousness, I'm eager to get back in here and dig my teeth into the meat of this so to speak. Marble Thorn was heated, based around a certain human pulling a Constantine XI'th. Except, not making a Marble Emperor. Just a thorn. But in the line of 'For want of a Nail,' all you need is a thorn. The whole thing was heated and had an odd relentlessness that clashed with Dolorosa's topor. 
> 
> This is like to be a more relaxed but more convoluted clusterfuck. Everyone wants something, even those who don't know they want something. Players and elements of the game that can't exist clash inevitable, winding down to the last hope of [UN]fucking the timeline. 
> 
> As an aside, I appreciate comments and feedback. It helps me know I'm not going insane as I go write for a minority audience within a minority audience. Drawthings will be featured if offered.
> 
> Also, vacantwitch? If you read this? Thanks.


	2. The Larks Still Singing Fly

#### \- PG.USA, Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, North Philly

( ♌︎ ) After the omnipresent and agonizing stress brought on from the possibility of being captured by the Empire with all that could come of it, the sickening state of its denizens and the incoherent madness of Imperial enforcement, the thing Libaax Leijon had despised most about Alternia were the 'leaders' of Kadarn's followers. Not the ones they chose, not the ones Kadarn personally trusted. No, it was the ones that 'rose' up the ranks. The sycophants, the two-faced grovelers, the gnashing 'realists' and the seemingly milquetoast serpents. 

The very Trolls that had dragged her kicking and clawing off of Alternia. The one's that had almost driven her to madness over the course of a long self-imposed exile by 'safeguarding' her. The one's that had mysteriously re-appeared after she'd emerged on Earth to try and scrape back some of their influence.

The humans called the war the Long Summer, but for the many Denizens of a former empire thrown into anarchy? It had a hundred names, but two came up the most. 'His Retribution' and 'The Collapse.' What exactly had transpired was largely hearsay as the scattered fragments of the fleet sped out across the stars, spinning tales and rumors of what had been. Wild tall-tales and voracious myths had been born with little truth to them, in the hundreds, but there were three true constants. 

First, that the planet the fleet had broken itself upon was populated by ferocious crimson blooded aliens, cruel parasite-eyed spirits that dwelled in noon light of frozen days. Of whom there were several that had risen to the stature of the Demoness in the mythic spheres. The Cold-Born Bolsyvik, Fearless and Ironclad Ignatius, the Herald of the End Avarayri, Priest-Ripper Qarmatia and above all others the Unbested braying terror known simply as Napoleon. Beyond what physical acts they'd accomplished, impressive as they may be, through wild and flamboyant tongues they'd grown to rival the lesser Mirthful Messiahs in status. The Avarayri had killed many and faced down the Grand Highblood, but those trolls thousands of light-years away? 

She'd destroyed an entire extermination legion alone and returned from the void itself to prophesy the End. Bolsyvik stained in nothing but her own red blood had crashed an entire battle ship into the frozen pole and devoured the crew whole. Napoleon with the guile of an oceanic Deep God had turned the entire Imperial army on the fleet and defeated the Butcher Lygtagt, who only realized the ploy when it was already too late. Rumors Haeiig had died of shock when he realized he'd navigated himself into an inescapable trap overshadowed anything the Butcher Lygtagt had accomplished. 

The second core 'truth' was the total and utter defeat of the Imperial fleet. The chaos of the end that had destroyed two in four ships with one entire quarter joining on with the humans. Unlike the rumors of Humans, the 'Final Battle' had a thousand stories telling its end. Each more ludicrous than the last. The humans coiling upon the greed of the Free-Horns to strike up a battle, the political intrigues of the nobility setting off an apocalyptic cascade, the Humans mounting an unthinkable effort upon stolen ships and taking the battle to the fleet. The Echo of Alternia's end finding the Empress, after all these sweeps. The very ghost of Signless himself casting down the ICOV itself with a hammer forged of crimson alien blood. Regardless, the Empire's military was shattered.

Third, the peace. And with it? Disciple's return. 

Libaax had been but a small part in the actual negotiations. The smashing success of the Reykjavík Concordant for the trolls lay mostly with Degaal, Pyrope and Rymmyl. But the Olive had played a hand in the peace, mostly in getting human representatives on their side. In spite of their sheer alieness and (admittedly justified) contempt for Trollkind, Libaax had found herself sympathetic to many of the xenos delegates. They had come from the rubble and ruin of their homes, passing the bones of their friends and relations to speak to those who had arrived with intent to obliterate them. They were fearful of another wave of invaders, but they were more worried for those they had left behind. They feared human infighting capitalizing on the chaos, the collapse of what little they had left and the all too familiar dread of starvation creeping relentlessly closer, hour by hour. They were like those Denizens of Alternia driven to breaking, those who had turned to Kadarn. Through Libaax, the blue bloods in charge had known what was needed, and who could be swayed the most with what little they could provide. 

The negotiated peace was in some ways as miraculous as their victory.

The resources of the Terrene armies and all who had joined them under the now singular 'Earth Troll Governate' had stopped and full turned the encroaching collapse Mankind had been facing mere weeks away from the signing of the Concordant. The slow and painful recovery reduced to a fraction of the time it would have taken alone. The threats of hunger, pestilence and warfare sundered before they could hit in full. Earth's residents, though they had been cut down by a third of their number, were once more masters of their home world. To say nothing of their future expansion across the solar system in the coming sweeps and planned defensive measures against future invasion. They had a future once more.

But the Reykjavík Concordant was a two sided success. For those Trolls who had turned about on the Empire beside the Terrenes, those who had deserted, those who fought hook and fang for the aliens or simply those who had simply survived, the future had been bleak. Scattered, outnumbered, divided. 

Over half the remaining ship's in Terrene hands wouldn't have even been able to leave orbit with the damage they'd sustained. Every single surviving life ship had been stranded and slowly loosing orbit. The Concordant promised the Troll survivors a future. In the very long term this was literal, just under a hundred thousand miles of cavern riddled surface had been rented out to the Trolls of the Governate to establish Breeding Caverns. To prevent the extinction of Trollkind brought by the exponential decline of Mothergrub populations across the galaxy. Those Trolls on planet were allowed asylum until such a time they could be given flight off to a stable neutral world, reach the Lease and settle there or on one of the planned space stations, or sign off with a human nation.

A little over half of those stranded were due to leave or were in the process of leaving. But millions would remain and it was surprising how many had chosen the third option. From the veritable horde of turncoat foot-soldiers, renegade priests, anarchii seabloods, cultists of all castes, to the prestigious likes of Dictationer Adrestia who after serving under the Napoleon in the war had chosen to stay with him in his politicking. 

But to the Trolls abroad? Reykjavík was a divisive bombshell. The terms, reparations, settlements and actual signing were so scattered in speculation the only unifying details were Disciple and Psiioniic's return and lasting peace between the Governate and mankind. Disciple's own role in it had been inflated to the point where it sounded like she'd negotiated with the humans herself, casting her as the once and singular head of Signless's followers. To the joy of some and the utter black disdain of others.

Gossiping up the nature of humans as more ferocious and terrifying than they were assuaged the bitter wounds of the Imperial remnants. Fighting over the fleet's collapse was worthless to all but commanders and tacticians with the scope of destruction. But the peace? The first official inter-species treaty in Troll history tore a ragged length in the already divided galaxy. The tattered Seablood Moiety, the majority of the scattered Imperial nobility and the remnants of the Adversanciers considered it the greatest single affront to TrollKind that had ever been committed. To the surprise of no one with a functioning think-pan. More pragmatic elements, nobles and cliques considered the peace an ugly mistake but one that couldn't be challenged in the next hundred sweeps. Oddly, the new Supreme Hierophant had side-stepped most of the former Imperial Echelons and declared the peace a 'Mirthful Mother Fucker not to be tampered with' and sundered the already fractured priesthood further. It remained unclear if the Grand Highblood actually believed that or had said it to flush out undesirable elements from her ranks.

But the most divisive response came from within the ranks of Kadarns own fragmenting followers. While Libaax's own role in all of this had secured her place as the undisputed spiritual regent to Signless, the petty low leadership had fragmented and pillarized. Allegations of named humans acting as hands to Kadarn inflamed the superstitious and zealous. The triumph of the Terrene armies and their subsequent ceding of power a victory for those who would fight knowing they would have to ask for forgiveness. The promise of lasting peace on Earth and Disciple's return was a rallying point to those closest to the soil and those orthodox followers. But worst of all were those who demanded more, that decried working with the former Imperial Trolls of the Governate and the historically genocidal humans. Those who now called themselves 'Vanguards of the Signless' were some of the last still fighting on Earth's fringing, condemning the Concordant and calling for a sanction on joining the anarchy raging across former Imperial space. 

That was why the trolls who Libaax despised second to Imperials-loyalists themselves had contacted her. Desperately attempted to cling to some of their rapidly diminishing power by requesting she simply concede everything every radical wanted. Surely if Disciple just _rolled right over_ everything would be alright. 

Libaax Leijon, the Disciple, had no intention letting any troll desecrate her Other Half's legacy. 

The past three months had been odd polarized between soft mundanities and the escalating requests Libaax miraculously fix the growing schism. 

They'd gotten a nice hive rented out in a slowly rebuilding human city, out a ways, nice and quiet. 

The sycophants had gotten her contact information somehow, bombarding her with requests to get some reconciliation or abatement for the Vanguard. 

Jiixan had been signed on for skin therapy. His panic attacks had gotten better. The landlord's descendant had also started hanging out with him. 

The sycophants had kept coming, beside the occultists and the vanguards asking when the 'caste-war' was. When they'd be allowed to shatter what was left of the Empire with Disciple's blessings.

Things had been looking up, even as it got cold outside with winter approaching. Earth had some terrible winter weather, but humans knew how to deal with the worst of it.

Every single hour of everyday, Disciple had someone trying to get into contact with her, demanding the impossible. 

Lit only by the light of her computer screen in her near pitch 'work block' it was difficult not to snap anymore than she had to. But these days it was now something of a necessity. The only way she could make them listen. "Now if I haven't made that clear enough and you still can't understand it then you're either stupid to the point you should resign or you're being purposely obtuse! And if it is obtuseness then you should abandon your posts in shame!" Her lips were pulling back, revealing her fangs to the grid of pale and sickly looking trolls that alleged to follow Signless. "Is that understood by all of you or do we need to do this again!?"

"No, my lady forgive them they-" A Rust attempted, but his play was familiar and Libaax snapped it before it could even begin.

"Signless was the one to forgive freely. Do not think I hold the same ubiquity, particularly when offenders who allege to follow his message refuse to concede one of the most basic tenants of his creed!"

"Yes but I just-"

"Just what Enmarked?!"

The Enmarked squirmed, unable to even look into his camera. "There are a hundred thousand would be Imperious Condescensions out there. We only stand to lose if we do not concede something to the Vanguards, Nitram will surely-"

A half-feral snarl cut the Rust off. "If the Vanguardists squating out on the Rim, on the very bones of the humans they helped cull aim to speak sanctimony to me then let their tongues rot in their mouths. Their 'Vanguard' is sitting on butchered cities with the same vile xenocidal disdain that let the Empress scour thousands of other worlds!"

Another tried to jump in, an Olive that had sat silent for most of the conference. "If we don't make concessions than they'll be entirely outside of our reach! We risk a Schism or at the very least a full Synod! Worse comes to worse we'll splinter into a hundred shards!"

"I will make no concessions if it comes at the expense of Kadarn's message. If Nitram is either bold or stupid enough to demand a Synod, I'll grant him one." Three feeds cut abruptly, the Enmarked looked like a shell of what he'd started as and the Olive looked away shaking his head. "Now. Was there anything else?"

A number of refutes, worn and defeated.

"I thought as much." Libaax cut her own feed, bent over and manually shut down her whole computer so she wouldn't get anymore hails. Anything vital would either be sent by phone or arrive in the flesh. Though they were only expecting one Troll to arrive in person.

Left in the dark in her shitty human office chair, the Olive's eyes slowly adjusted. Ears winding down to catch the small taps conversation downstairs and the beats of virtual entertainment. Libaax cracked her knuckles, attempting to wind herself down. Failing to do so. Too much. Too much just- happening all at once. The insurgents on the Rim who'd refused to accept the Concordant, the infighting, the chaos of a galaxy going insane. Stuck on the rock the Empire had broken itself upon. 

Periapte's report. 

The thought of the younger Jade and what she'd brought made Libaax wince, but she couldn't even sit up.

Little Annalist Periapte had done much for the Governate, providing proof the caverns in what eventually became the 'Lease' could replace the Jade Belt of Alternia. Periapte had in her journey stumbled into something much stranger, tied to something that Libaax had considered impossible. But what she'd found struck too many beats to be ignored. According to Periapte, her mission on earth and her very life had been saved by the Jade Knyaz Puissant. One who'd perished at the hands of Iconoclabductor assassins, leaving Periapte with a name and all his writings. The Knyaz painted a perverse story.

Puissant had once a cavern Patron in his own writings, a one Offnan Arbeit. He detailed a life spent in regret, going from slave to soldier to Explorer-hero but helpless to pursue his own goals. His entire mid-sweeps spent in search of a chilling figure, finding her only far too late. Puissant had known Dolorosa, before she had been Dolorosa. Even before she'd been 'Eym to her wards. The Jade pair had been separated when Kadarn had been discovered, the Knyaz had desperately attempted to free himself from bondage to return when he'd caught word of Signless. But he'd done so too late, finally buying his freedom a sweep after Sayrii had been killed. He wrote of his despair and attempts at finding an end. He'd failed, clinging to memories and what could only be Sayrii's symbol in regret. Much like Libaax had done.

Void, she could still remember it as clearly as if she'd just seen it. The dirty camera feed, the figure chained to the wall and dead-eyed. The Orphaner just-

Dolorosa had died alone. The only mercy was that it had been instant, a single shot, right through the chest.

Offnan Arbeit had been driven to the brink of madness, just like Disciple. But he'd kept going, slowly recovering and helping Kadarn's followers where he could. He'd kept his eyes and ears open, still trying to do some small good while maintaining the facade of a loyal ex-Janiseri hero. Until eight sweeps before Earth's discovery, when he'd gone back over the affair and the rumors of Dolorosa's survival. Ludicrous as they were considering that vile recording, he'd searched. Turning up the old allegations of return and hoaxing, of conspiratorial body doubles and rainbow drinkers. When Libaax had thought of it before it had made her feel sick and angry. Salt in a wound as afflicted as the loss of her other half. There wasn't anger anymore, not after reading the report.

The Knyaz tracked the 'body double' down. Painting an eerie picture of something dwelling in the depths of the ship Sayrii's body had been taken too. Whispers of the nature of that troll formed to look like Dolorosa, a veritable day-terror kept at the beck of a conniving Marquise. Spies disappearing with bloodless bodies found floating in space, gamblignants terrified of a fanged reprisal they'd been broken into keeping a secret. The Knyaz wrote of the incredulity he'd had, for he had seen the very same video of the murder. But he'd kept going, willing to have his hopes shattered to pieces again if it meant putting Dolorosa's ghost to rest.

He'd waited, biding his time as he tried to get close to the enigmatic Marquise Mindfang, to get chance at seeing the alleged body double that was only ever withdrawn in the company of very certain seablood. Sweeps of waiting until he finally got his chance, an invitation from the Marquise for a seat at the Degeneration of Flesh's arena. He wrote of waiting, waiting for nothing. For someone he wasn't even sure was real. No Jade slave joined them, and over the morning he'd slowly given into a hidden despair. Until that fateful match.

Disciple had forced herself to watch it after reading through the report. The Ŧrœⱡ’kyv’Ŧrœ between the Avarayri and the Grand Highblood. The recording was about as ludicrous as one could anticipate of a ritual dual where one participant was over three times the size of the other. What was not expected was the unnerving element. Humans were not cowards, but when faced down by an Indigo they did what most trolls would do, panic. But she'd fought, as hard as one could before the Grand Highblood had finally broken her, where the disconcerting climax had hit. When Libaax heard that the Avarayri had been taken by the Mark of chains, she'd expected a misshapen blood splatter. One that needed half a liter of fermented venom to make out the Suffering Mark. Sharp bright crimson on white marble formed three three clean lines, the final one coming from the hand of a near dead alien. Howling high for an end. The feed cut before it could go any further. 

The Knyaz's story only grew more perverse, as he was privy to the whole thing in the flesh. Watching the alien rise from what was rightly a killing blow to curse down the Grand Highblood, the Indigo's unusual retreat and the Marquises' own vanishing act. Dualscar had fled, as had the other denizens sharing the Marquises private booth. Leaving Puissant alone to watch the alien collapse to the dust, on the fringe of the Arena. Above and around the crowds turned in on themselves, fighting in the stands. He'd felt like he'd been alone to watch a singular figure rush out to the maimed xeno.

Puissant hadn't believed it, didn't want to believe it in some regards. It had been Sayrii, it could only have been her. Not by horns or size or figure, but by the motions. The same drive with a regard possessed by few, felt for a creature as wretched as the Avarayri. He alleged Sayrii had done something, seemingly biting down on the near culled Avarayri, finally knocking her out. He wrote of watching in frozen horror as Sayrii Maryam had vanished once more.

Convinced it had to be Dolorosa the Knyaz had consigned himself to finding a way onto Mindfangs fortress of a flagship, waiting on his contacts to find something. But someone had betrayed the Knyaz. His spies had fallen out to the very troll who had seemingly murdered Dolorosa in the first place, the once Orphaner had taken word of the Knyaz's skulduggery very poorly. An affront to the Supreme Admiral who seemingly had his own plans for the Jade. Puissant's last log detailed the assignment to Earth, speaking no longer in his own writing but directly to Periapte. Should the worst happen, someone had to save Dolorosa, the Knyaz requested his notes and findings be taken to someone that could do it. Be it Kadarns followers, someone who cared, someone who wanted to spite the Marquise or as a last resort-

Disciple. The Knyaz wrote of Libaax with a trepidation. A terror. He'd feared the Olive, considering his late arrival to the scene a failure for all of them. He wrote of a personal cowardice that kept him from ever seeking Disciple out. 

The worst had come to pass and the Knyaz had been slain. But somehow the Periapte had fulfilled her duty and the old Jade's last request. Going out of her way to have the Annalist's verify the reports. Beside Puissant's writings, Periapte delivered a number of disturbing verifications. Not enough to prove the mad story, but enough- Just enough it couldn't be ignored. Just enough there was a chance Dolorosa had lived.

The Annalists and the vast network of Signless Cultists had set to work finding the Impudent Arachnid, still missing after the chaos of the Collapse. 

leaving Disciple alone to wait.

In the dark. 

With the weight of veritable millions demanding answers to questions Kadarn had already laid out in stone. 

Libaax at times wanted to just- Vanish. But she'd done that, she'd done it for a few dozen sweeps and it had done nothing. Less than nothing if both Jiixan and Sayrii had been out there. Just thinking about the possibility Sayrii had been out there-

Kadarn had been with the Jade from the moment he'd hatched. But Libaax had been with her for most of the olive's waking life. Until the end. The thought that Dolorosa was out there still in chains just left Libaax feeling helpless and miserable. It wasn't like Captor where there'd been certainty, the writings could be the scribbling of a demented troll seeing ghosts in the wind. Just not knowing? That was the worst. 

It wasn't her own willpower that drew Libaax from the miserable attempt at containing the thoughts. It was the beginning of the Coffee pangs. A low winging need for the vile brackish human drink. Coffee woke a troll up like a slap to the face, but it came with an increased risk of addiction.

Not the best hole to stumble into, but at this point, Libaax didn't care. 

The need to go secure a pot of the bitter stimulant let her finally stand and stumble out of the block. Down the stairs, pulling off the formal looking shawl and hanging it on the bottom newel as she passed. Vaguely aware of how rough she looked. Cheaply bought human clothes covered her, a black t-shirt and loose slacks had been the only thing to fit her. Not that she cared much, as long as her top half looked presentable and menacing, Libaax couldn't find it in herself to bother. 

It was a small hive they had, upstairs had three blocks, the dwelling blocks of the denizens and her pitiable workspace. Below was a small cooking block, the water closet, a small entryway that held the stairs and what had been at one point an empty block. A 'living room' as it was put. Initially left vacant, Jiixan had slowly been turning it into something habitable. A quick peak into the room revealed the ragged brown felt couch, ancient human viewing screen and the two seated before it. 

Jiixan had slowly recovered, even if he was far from the Troll she'd known back on Alternia. His black hair had grown out, older reddened horns sticking out even more. His hide had healed, leaving a rough cover of writhen scars over everything that wasn't his face and chest. He'd taken the transition to human clothes with far more grace than Libaax, having walked off of Pyrope's shuttle for the last time with a garbage bag of questionable garments. Such as the noxious rainbow coloured sweater and frayed 'jeans' he was currently wearing. 

He was turned away from the Olive, with the human wiggler beside him equally focused on the screen. Lugh at six sweeps looked smaller than he was beside the gangly psion. Black skin, shaved black hair, he wore clothes that looked like they'd been made some time before Lugh had been hatched. He'd gotten along weirdly well with Jiixan, making a habit of bringing videos and games over. Jiixan was the only one he really spent time with, as 'he didn't really know many people.' 

Apparently most wigglers he'd been acquainted with before hadn't made it through the war.

The two were focused entirely on what Disciple had been told was a 'Nintendo.' Libaax didn't know what it was and looking at the screen left her with few answers as it the split screens looked like a blur of roadways and cartoonish characters, but at least Jiixan liked it. 

It was kind of enviable how focused the two were on it, the Psion looked furious.

"Eat red thell you little-" Something popped on screen, gone too fast to really take in. "Fucker."

"Oh, bananas are terrible huh?" On the right side of the screen the cart spun out as it hit something. Jiixan snarled as Lugh cackled. "Oh naners are just bad yea!?"

"Two lap'th left, don't count thothe wigglerth before they hat'th you little thit."

Noiselessly pulling back, Disciple circled back around to the kitchen. 

It was something of a mess, neither denizen had much in the way of effort for upkeeping the place. Not that either of them had ever been concerned for that, it was just more glaring these days. Packages and boxes of alien foodstuffs laid all over the countertop, some things had been pretty terrible, but other things had been alright. The bases were better than anything an imperial agracreage ever produced, while the more processed things...

The 'Sugar Pie' incident had ended with Disciple expelling the full contents of her stomach after one bite of human pastry. 

Just remembering it, Libaax scrapped her tongue along her fangs. Human sugar tolerance was something else.

The coffee machine was activated with the familiarity brought on by voluntary addiction, the Olive withdrawing a mug for herself as she heard Jiixan's defeated yowling. Almost covering what could best be described as human 'yips.' She managed to smile. There was nothing to be done for now but wait for more bad news. 

And, as a petty reprieve, listen to an adolescent human kick the metaphorical tar out of Captor.

( ♋︎ )

#### \- PG.USA, Colorado, Colorado Springs

Torg Solheim covered his eyes with one hand as Darkleer's torch blared, while the other brought the pipe up to his mouth. A Troll horn churchwarden, the pipe was as long as his forearm and grimy to boot. Whatever it was that Darkleer smoked, it tasted gamy as sin but at this point Torg was used to the vile xenos smokage. The air of the workshop stank of it, even over the musk of alien welding. 

The modifying cut ended as soon as it had begun, letting Torg drop his guard and look over the two xenos that more or less had become his life. Ebonveil, aka Erraum Megido, aka Satan sat on untreated steel bench that Darkleer had put together back when they'd settled into this place, the Rust blooded veteran looked good, all things considered. Her dark red hircic eyes were at the moment hidden behind a pair of tinted aviators, bush of hair done up behind her head in a bun Torg had spent the better part of an hour securing. Curling horns lean and burnished harbored a dark blue ring each. The leather jacket and worn out Metallica shirt almost made up for the short shorts. Not that she could really wear anything long right now.

Currently, they were at the back end of a multi-day operation. Far from the rough start where Darkleer had _fucking cut off Ebonveil's legs off_ knees down, at this point he'd almost completed the works. Sleek triple jointed bio-mechanical limbs that ended in an armoured hoof rather than a foot. At the moment the legs hung limp, as the trio were waiting for the 'integration' to finish. Whatever that meant. 

Darkleer himself had slowly been growing more twitchy as they waited. Constantly making small adjustments to the legs as he waited for them to finally turn on. The gigantic blue had come further than either of the red-bloods. Only his visor remained from the strange early nights, serving as a flash guard for his unusually murky glare. His massive arrow tipped horns and long hair seemed more subdued now, the dark red ring resting on his right horn hidden from almost everyone when he stood. Human clothes had a nullifying effect, or at least, human clothes designed to fit a troll. Finding shirts that a stray flex out of Darkleer wouldn't destroy had been fucking hilarious. Torg had succeeded after a long search though and found a couple, one baby blue button up he was currently wearing. With the formal shoes, loose dress pants and the leather apron he had on made him look like he belonged in an automobile plant sometime in the last century. If you ignored the fact he was twelve feet tall and half as wide.

"Just a while longer." Darkleer clicked, more to himself than anyone else as he prodded the inner workings of the bionic leg and for the moment dropped the torch. 

"You said 'a while' yesterday." Ebonveil clicked back, pulling off the sunglasses.

"'While' is an indeterminate amount of time. There isn't any metaphorical wool over your eyes."

The Rust rolled her eyes but said nothing. Letting Darkleer prod as they waited for the 'integration.' Something that had been explained in detail to both red bloods and largely gone over their heads. Passing the pipe back and forth between them there was nothing to do but keep standing by for the promised end.

It finally came. The clench of bio-mechanical muscles tensing signaled what they'd waited weeks for. "Woah." Underneath the lining of organic composite plate Torg could see the inner workings flex as Ebonveil looked down. They moved like flesh limbs, one leg rising up and kicking without the jerking imperfection of a human prosthetic. 

"There we are. Neural interfacing takes some time to hit full functionality. While this took longer than expected there should be no further complications. Now, lift your left leg." He said, gripping the chosen limb lightly. Ebonveil did, though it didn't do much under the Blue's grip. "Left ankles." The paired lower joints shifted, rolling her new hoof. He repeated the process, ensuring everything worked to his satisfaction. It was one of the few times he'd shown any gentleness, or any evidence of the fact they were alien boyfriend and girlfriend. Matefantas or whatever it was. 

One of the fewer times Ebonveil recouped it, trilling as he circled his thumb around the base of her hoof. "Hey, that tickles."

"You can feel that?" Torg asked. 

"Of course she can. My works are no paltry supplements, these legs are easily superior to Erraum's old ones. I would have nothing less." He stood, rising to his full stature. Weeks of minutia, with all his focus put into this, weeks of waiting so Megido would have legs to stand on. It'd been easy to put off thinking on it with how well the Rust had rolled with it. But without the promise of reprieve? It would have been much harder. Made Torg want to say something, something shared by Erraum who had her mouth half open. "If you think to thank me, don't. It would be ludicrous to expect worthless benediction from one's flushed quadrant."

Hesitation vanished, and the Satan's grin returned in full. "Alright then!" Ebonveil rolled off her seat, standing with a clank of metal on tile. Full on her new hooves, though her initial push almost sent her toppling over. She would have if Torg hadn't been there to grab her. Steadying Ebonveil, she looked like she was 'back,' grinning with the same demonic giddiness she'd had back during the war. "I missed that!"

"Shit. Those stupid goat legs feel alright?" Torg slowly let her stand on her own. Having worried about Megido would have to work with what was essentially a giant pair of toes to stand on, her new legs didn't look heavyset or as unstable as he'd worried. Hell, if anything it was the opposite, as he watched Ebonveil gingerly stand up on one hoof. Putting her full weight down on one leg before popping to the other and landing on it with a clack.

"Yea actually. They're a bit... Bouncier than I thought they'd be? But- they feel fine!"

"What good would a limb be if it hampered its master?"

"Bad?" Looking back up to Darkleer, Torg noted a smile. More of a disconcerting ogle by human standards, and also Troll standards. But hey. Couldn't be picky. 

He nodded. "Correct."

"Well." As nice as it was to see Darkleer... Do his equivalent of a smile, Torg looked away while being very proud he didn't shudder. Back down to his Satan and the thought that had crawled into the back of his head, in spite of his flattened teeth his grin was wolfish. "Think you're good enough we could head out?"

"I-" The attempted interruption was, itself, interrupted. 

"More than good enough. I'm starving!" Her eyes lit up at the suggestion.

The Blue growled, focusing on Torg as he realized he likely wouldn't be able to waylay the Rust. "Is that a good idea?"

Unfortunately for Darkleer, Torg was also kind of eager to get out. "Not really. But fuck it. This calls for celebration and both you two demons could use some fresh air. Those feet need anything else?"

Darkleer let out a croak that might have been a sigh as he pulled off his visor. His sclera dark enough one couldn't really make out where it ended and his snakelike blue pupil began. "No. Now that they're synced in with Erraum's nervous system they'll be fine, any issue a body would suffer should be stopped by the plating. Though I will expect you allow me to perform maintenance twice a month."

Ebonveil's noise of exasperation sounded like someone shaking an irritated hissing cockroach. "I'll let you fondle the dang things if that's what you're worried about. But if they're good to go then- well I really want to go and walk around a bit and get some food that's cooked for us! I'm tired of spam and oats."

The attempted storm off killed any further resistance from Darkleer, 'attempted' in that the Rust moved too quickly and almost tumbled horn's first into a wall. Standing and walking was one thing, but actually running was for the future.

They left the pitiable workshop without further issue, Darkleer, perhaps realizing it would be better to keep a hand on the situation rather than resisting it, followed Torg and Erraum out of like a silent shadow. Torg himself kept close to the Rust, close enough he'd be able to catch her if she fell. Though now at least she was moving with ample caution. The pitiable apartment he'd grabbed was as barebones as possible, the back taken up by the 'workshop.' Wasn't much else to the place besides the kitchen, the den and what was affably the 'pile block.'

A part of Torg still didn't quiet understand how he'd ended up sleeping in a glorified pile of pillows, in arms reach of Darkleer. Torg didn't really care at this point either, the combination of familiarity and the need to be in hugging range of Ebonveil when it turned into one of 'those' nights had gutted any sense of personal space he had left. At least when Ebonveil was there. 

Passing into what pitiable living space they had, which was little more than a couch, a reinforced chair for Darkleer and a mantel. Barren above and below, aside from a familiar black urn. Torg gave it the finger as he passed, with the usual curse of 'Loviatar'. The past few months had had highs and lows, but out of everything it was Vasara who proved to have the worst of it. No sign of kin, no sign of friends. Not even a surname. It was not as if he hadn't gotten into contact with everyone he could, apparently word had spread through the old world of their long march and Torg had used it to get lines with the old world governments. But, there was a good chance that everyone Vasara had known was dead. And that only Torg and Ebonveil remembered him.

At the front door there was a coat rack, holding the only coat he owned now. Leather, front laden with his pitiable commendations and the King's Standard wrapped around the upper left arm. A part of Torg found it obnoxious having it all just hang out, but his dealings with Yankees had found it one of the few things that would skirt otherwise problem situations. He pulled his coat on without complaint and lightly opened the door.

"What, you're still getting them?"

"What?"

"Medals." She said, pointing at his chest.

Blinking and feeling slightly dumb, Torg opened his mouth, only to be cut off by Darkleer. "He's at eleven. Along with the promotions."

"What. Plural promotions?"

The human shrugged. "Command chain got cut to shreds, so a lot of people got shot up the ranks back home. Worse the fucking story spread all the way up with the dispatch I sent. The King took my story at face value. So I'm a Captain now if I ever go back to Norway." He stepped outside, into the lower empty hallway that led out of the dirty apartment building. The rest of the building was largely vacant on this side, leaving them alone. Torg did not wait on the Trolls as he could taste where the talk was going.

"So... Have you thought about it then? I mean now that I can walk again?"

"Man. Satan, I kind of don't want to think about it."

"You said you would."

"I said I would but I honestly don't want to." He scoffed. "As I said, I'll prefer to stick with you. Can't bring you two to fucking Norway with the way the winters are looking now and from now on. Fucking haven't even sorted out the power systems in Oslo, never mind the fact I'm still running on fucking Finnish! So, for now, I'm sticking."

"The sentimentality is appreciated until it hurts you Solheim."

"I'm not hurting yet. That _Ordre de la Résistance_ came with a neat little stipend."

"I suppose there's a petty benefit to a multitude of states. That and a heavy front."

"As far as I'm concerned this is back pay for all the Partisan bullshit I went on with on my own. Keeps Yanks from shooting me bad looks to my face."

"But not the back I'll assume."

"It's Americans. I'll take what I can get." He stepped out onto the street, holding the door open for the others.

Darkleer almost cracked a horn again against the door-frame. But almost was an improvement at this point. A whistle drew his attention as the Blue gingerly pulled off.

A few steps away, Ebonveil was starring off at the sunset.

"What?"

"It's just gorgeous out." Admittedly it was. Torg's view of America had been admittedly coloured by crashlanding and being almost mulched on several occasions in the dark grey mess of Wisconsin. 

The rocky interior was a whole other beast. Their building was on the edge of the inner city, but just over the highway across the road the untamed mountains rose high in the west. The setting sun coloured the already vibrant dusted rock a painting of shadow and warm stone. The odd state of seasons coloured the trees and bush every tint of summer and autumn, some were even barren, creating thickets of barren wood. Overhead the clouds did little to stop the bright but failing light, dyed by the sunset the veil'd sky seemed impossibly vast. Inverse mountains stained in blood, rolling eastward with a relentlessness brought by distant wind.

Pretty. The Rockies were probably the only thing that lived up to all Yankee guffaw Torg had heard. 

"Entrapment will do that for you." He put a hand on Ebonveil's shoulder, noting the Troll now had a half inch on him. Not that that was much of an issue, as he started guiding her along towards what was now the core of the city. "Now, what are you thinking? You're the star of the night, you get to pick."

"My choice? Huh." She chittered to herself. At this point Torg liked to imagine he'd done a pretty decent job of acclimatizing the Trolls to human cuisine. Another tolerable thing about this country was the food variety. Not like he could find anything of real quality, but he'd at least covered everything besides seafood. 

"A word of caution Erraum. The surplus canteens are just as vile as anything you would find on the fleet, human spicing attempts to cover it and failure only makes it more vile. The chain establishments are vile as well." Darkleer clicked behind them.

"Are you still bitter about those nuggets?"

"Yes. Protein grubs raw are more tenable sustenance than that... Filth." He shuddered, though both red-bloods ignored it.

The walk into the city center proper was quick, in spite of what was rightly a walking pace with the two Trolls having long strides Torg found he'd picked up a quick pace to match. The current city might have been cut in half space wise during the Long Summer, but it was still stupidly large. Built for people with cars and gasoline and too much time on their hands to get from one place or the other. Across the final highway spanning bridge, the city finally took a reasonable spacing scheme, as multistory buildings replaced the wide yarded scattered homes and mixed low apartment buildings. People all about, some shooting glares at Torg, more at the Trolls, but both parties were used to that by now. 

"Is there a place I can try drinking?"

The question wasn't unexpected, she'd inquired about human 'intoxicants' a few times over the long wait. And the human couldn't really deny that, what with the weird alien horn pipe still in his mouth. Torg had no time to reply though, as Darkleer had already begun clicking his disapproval. "Really?"

"I've been on an alien planet for like a Perigee now Leer and I've barely done any of the native customs! The stan-feed promised me action and concupiscent romance! Instead I got him and my legs broken in." At 'him' she wrapped her arm around Torg.

He was kind of proud he didn't flinch anymore when she did that. "Oh so all that crazy shit wasn't actiony enough for you?"

"It was actiony enough until the breaking of my freaking legs." Ebonveil chittered with a morbid grin. "Seriously though, I want to try out human intoxicants. Some of them sound way more fun than anything you could get on the fleet and human drinkings been AOK'd through the roof, right?"

"In that case I assume I'll be the responsible party of this outing?" The Blue Blood growled switching from prevention to containment and turning away from Ebonveil to glare at Torg.

"Darkleer, we couldn't intoxicate you with anything short of an industrial barrel. But I'm not exactly going to get black out drunk. Not intending to anyways." 

"It isn't like Leer couldn't just carry us back."

He considered their options for a moment, wasn't much in the way of places, everything was either shitty sports bars with too many lights and sounds to spook Trolls or vile trash suited only for Torg. But there was one option. "I think I know a place. Dingy but not dingy enough one of us will get poisoned." He shifted course to guide them through the cramped streets.

The interior in the late hours brought back Torg's resting misanthropy, and a bit of the older angry mess he was before the war. 

It wasn't as bad as it had been when they'd arrived. The rubble, trash and obvious damage was gone. Not as many homeless, not as many gangs and 'state militia.' Wasn't the possibility the whole damn union would go 1916 warlord era China hanging over their heads. But in some ways it was still just as bad, like the place had regressed back to the old west. Some people just looked like they had just walked in from that, with wide-brim hats and revolvers. Guns, guns everywhere. The ubiquity probably the only thing that cut down actual shootings.

Darkleer also looked at it with contempt, but then again he usually looked like that. To the point where it was likely he was just trained to look at things that way. Ebonveil though? She took it all in grinning like a... Well a Satan. Sharp teeth and a far too happy smile turned away most that would cause them trouble. If she couldn't crack a human neck with a thought then Torg might have worried about her.

Safety wise she was probably better off than him. Ebonveil was weird and Torg accepted it at this point. "Earth is so cool." She clicked as they passed by a vendor selling knicknacks of crystal, polished stone and tanned snake hide.

"Better than the ships?"

"You've got no idea. I was a pod-grub who went from a shitty asteroid station to the fleet to boarding duty. I think the only time I ever saw something outside of a camera feed was when the Demoness grounded me. Shit, that was actually the first time." She chittered, tilting her head back to their rearguard. "Is Earth anything like Alternia?"

"No." The response came immediately. But with it a low creak following the word, Darkleer struggled to speak openly at the best of times. Considering he was remembering things from before fucking Napoleon had been Emperor of France, that was entirely forgivable. When Darkleer finally spoke up, his words came subdued. "Alternia was whole shades spread out over a proper canvas. Earth feels... Gorged on colour at times. It is given so freely here. Not that such colour is bad. It feels... Out of place." The low chitter of a sigh. "On the homeworld, our sun bleached or burnt everything exposed to it. The colour that survived did so because it either endured or thrived against the light. Even the softest of Earth's tints survive."

There came a silence, looking back he noted that Darkleer had pulled his visor back on. "You alright there big guy?"

Darkleer nodded, with a gravelly slowness. "Yes. I simply tend not to dwell on Alternia. It is gone and there is nothing left to speak of but boiling rock."

"You sure?"

"I am."

Torg did not press the issue, as turning the corner he saw their destination. A goodly little hole in the wall with its name painted on a titanic pane of aluminum in gaudy emerald green. No windows, only a small barred door and the sign overhead to proclaim the weird little pub to the outside world. 

"Here we are. Owned by my ancestral foes." Torg snorted as they drew near.

"Your Solheim precursor held a rivalry with an 'O'Connor'?" Darkleer cared a bunch for his species weird 'progenitor ancestor' thing. So much so it didn't sound like he didn't know Torg was joking. Oh god he probably didn't.

Torg shrugged, attempting a backpeddle. "Probably. Used to be a fine tradition of raiding the O'Connor country before they drove pappa Solheim out for good and he became a good Christian boy."

"Fascinating." Hoping he hadn't just started something that would come back to bite him, Torg and his Trolls entered.

O'Connor's was a literal hole in the wall, no more than fourteen feet across, though it did extend a ways in with tables and a lining of booths against the wall. The front was dominated by the bar which looked as if it had been dragged into place, the wall behind dominated by stacks of bottles, an old fridge and a veritable tapestry of flags, battle standards and photos. The most prominent being the flag of the Irish Republic and the Second Mexican Empire. The owner of the place looked a little beside himself at the moment as a quintet of haggard and besotted patrons growled among themselves the split of their payment. Jose-Francisco O'Connor looked like he had neither slept nor changed his clothes since the cease fire, with only his washed hands revealing how much dirt covered him. A short man with brown eyes, there wasn't a hair on his head, prominently displaying the alien translator that had allowed him to thrive in his personal niche. 

Jose tilted his head at their entrance, the other 'patrons' also taking note of their arrival with the usual sort of contempt. However, inebriation emboldened things, and Torg immediately brought them a ways in. 

"You two seat yourselves in a booth at the back. It's the only thing that isn't breaking for you." 

Both trolls had noted the potential issue, though neither looked particularly happy about the move. Darkleer at least did not protest. "Very well." He stepped lightly around toward the back, Ebonveil giving Torg a 'don't do anything stupid' bunt before she released her hold on him and joined Darkleer. Leaving Torg alone. With a sigh he turned and returned to the bar, Jose eager to get away from his other clientel popping away from them at his approach.

"What's happening man?"

"Nothing I can't handle. See you brought your company." He said plainly, the clink of translation let his heavier Spanish through, but he didn't sound like he was particularly worried. Torg had dropped by a few times when he was left to his own devices, told him a little. Jose at least got it, much as someone could. Inversely Torg could get the constraints of the owner's issues, the leering danger of supply death and the Militia's requesting 'on the house' drinks.

"Yea. Finally got those fucking legs working. How's the stock situation?" Jose shrugged without any weight.

"Think I got everything worked out for the winter, lotta' sub-par shit from Guinea and those new hydroponic places the state got from reparations. But prices are finally stabilizing. Should be we're fine from here on out, as long as no one starts another war this side of the Atlantic. By the way, word of caution?" He said as he pushed a rough printed menu out, prices displayed in barter and dollars.

"Yea?"

"I imported some of that 'fermented venom' for novelty. None of the Horn-heads like it and some of them get shakes real bad when they drink it. Wouldn't advise it for you either. That stuff is vile."

Torg snorted, looking over the menu which had been altered so many times half the paper was just scratched out items and price adjustments. "Why'd you buy any of it then?"

"Novelty, it's like the Snake Wine except this gamble bit me. Don't know what you're looking for but it probably isn't that. Only the people that don't want to wake up tomorrow should drink that piss."

It was an odd combination of things, whatever liquor Jose could secure a decent supply of ranging from pre-war stocks to micro-breweries that had sprung up all over like weeds to the local bathtub distilleries. Food was a weird combination of _Ciudad de México_ streetfood, Yank basics and Irish food. The latter was probably the closest thing he'd had to Norwegian in months. Not that any of it was bad, whoever it was in the kitchen knew what they were doing. And Jose wasn't running with anything that could leave a person blind after drinking. 

"Right... Get me a pitcher of Vegas-Bud, pitcher of water, a bottle of that black pulque and... Shit you still doing meat on the spit?"

"Sorry man, that gets cleared before the noon-flies buzz off usually. Don't know if I'm keeping it on the menu, with the way meat keeps bouncing price."

"Horse Fucker." He growled.

Not that Jose was bothered, if anything he managed to grin. "That's business."

"In that case, four Pambazo and one of those stupid fucking trough fries. You wouldn't believe how much Trolls can eat."

"Hey, they're good business. A few reds came in this morning and cleaned out all the Champ and the Crubeens I had for the day. Should I..."

"Put it on the tab, my Satan's going to try drinking."

There was the vile light in the eyes of a man who knew he was getting payed. Jose clapped his hands and stepped back. "Well! Thank you in advance then sir. I'll get that to you as soon as I can."

To the side the door opened, Torg ignored a hard English bark as he responded to the O'Connor's glibness. "Just tell the kitchen to go easy on the salt you miser." 

Several things happened at once as Torg took a step back. 

Some part of him noted the approaching individual, but with his focus elsewhere that didn't really click in until a really nasty Right-hook cracked him full on the side of the head. The flash of pain was just that, his senses not failing him as he hit the floor, registering the gloved first that had just knocked him to the ground. Tiled floor smashed his back as the grizzled man shattered a bottle on the bar. Dressed in the local attire of a Militia member with cold blue eyes. " _Traitor piece of shit._ " Dangerously low and worryingly sober. Noise behind, noise over the bar but nothing that would stop the imminent glassing.

Before the man could drive the halved bottle into his gut, before Torg could try to kick him back, there came a distinct buzzing. Loud, close. Torg had heard that very buzzing twice in his life. Once during a Miliærpoliti demonstration, the second during a 'restraining action.' Perhaps the aggressor heard it, but it was upon him before he could even react.

Wordless and incoherent was the screech that came as a taser was driven into his flank, the attacking man seized from behind unable to escape thrashed, remaining bottle sent flying by a spasming limb and shattering somewhere out of sight. He lacked the coordination to even mount a defense as Torg's savior yanked the man into the brick wall with a bone breaking crack. 

The others turned tail, abandoning their party member in a heartbeat, steps from behind as two Trolls rushed over, Jose peering over the bar with the barrel of a shotgun to make sure he was alive. But out of everything Torg focused on the man who'd saved him, someone he'd thought he'd probably never see again. 

"Good to see you again, Visekorporal."

"Eh, you too Sergeant."

( ♎︎ )

#### \- PG.USA, California, Death Valley, a ways from Jagadaig City

##### Some time prior, but not by much...

Pyral loved Earth more than she'd loved Alternia. 

The terrible tyrant Lusus was of a breed known for its burning visage, but Hyralx had known them to be the most laconic of the winged dread things that stalked Alternia's nights. More than able to snatch up some land or sea beast, devour it wholesale and sleep for half a perigee. Her guardian was no exception and could go weeks without moving if left to her own devices. Since they'd landed and the arduous process of screening Pyral had been completed, the Lusus had spent every night flying out across the Mojave and the Rockies. 

Those examinations had been a terrible pain, the humans were (rightly) paranoid of Alternian flora infesting their world and only her former position of Supreme Legislacerator let her push the issue. Earth had enough of an issue with inter-continental species invasions, the last thing they needed were extra-terrestrial blights. Of course they didn't believe Pyral's perfect health until they'd investigated themselves, examining everything they safely could of the one hundred and twenty foot long guardian. Even when they had cleared her, the local authorities had presented Pyrope a veritable encyclopedia of rules and regulations on what Pyral could and couldn't eat, where she could go, what altitudes she could fly and everything else.

After reading through everything it had become very clear to Hyralx Pyrope that she'd just give her guardian an abridged set of instructions. Only chew through the exploding feral boar for food, stick away from the places men and Trolls dwelled and fly low. The old wyrm had obliged, free to stretch her wings for the first time in so many sweeps.

Even now she just crooned and rumbled like a sightless hatchling, in spite of the fact she'd done the same flight for weeks. She was full of energy from the hunted food and sunning herself under Sol, Ecstatic to be finally free again.

Then again, Hyralx Pyrope also loved Earth. Perhaps some part of her missed Alternia, but half-buried memories failed when faced with the living breathing world before her.

Atop Pyral, with the world lit by a blaring white moon whole and high in the sky she could see it. Clearer than any Imperial drone's cameras could capture. Earth, Terra, 'Sufferer's Rest,' 'EXIW-CH-3413,' whatever you called this world, it was gorgeous. The rolling mountains and plant dusted deserts lay below, sweeping winds bending the flora. Alive, more alive than anything she'd had in an age. A few lowly goats far below and escaped cattle noting their passage by the enormous temporal shadow. All passing fast as Pyral turned back towards Jagadaig City, the distant lights of the troll settlement the only unnatural light throughout most of the Mojave. The air was cool, and it could grow colder. Cold enough to kill a troll, not that she had anything to worry over. Beneath Hyralx her guardian's warmth seeped into her, better than any warmed seat or furnace could provide. The smell of Earth heavy in her nose and on her tongue, of distant rain, alien flora and dust. Of distant metal long since rusted, brine and the hint of long spent smoke. 

In those hazy memories that had been the worst of Alternia, her smell. Even in the wilds the chemical stench suffused the ear, the bio-mechanical mills and chitin manufactories had poisoned the winds. The vile stench of billions of trolls all the more vile and apparent when one drew near to the cities, where the toxins could be seen rising up from the sky. For Hyralx it had been bad, but for Pyral? A beast that could live on smell alone? It must have been torture. 

A part of Hyralx did not want to return to the landed Life-Ship and the rough settlement that had risen around it. It was probably the closest a troll could get to Alternia, even if alien works and technology utterly diluted what 'Imperialness' remained. Hyralx was a solitary creature, these nights more than most. She craved what time she had with Pyral who was rightly due to abandon her when grubs started popping up in the lease. 

As she caught sight of the swollen sky breaching expanse of Jagadaig's hull, it hit her she couldn't keep this up. 'This' being her current state. This in-between.

Before was over. The Red-Glare, Hyralx Pyrope once and again Supreme Legislacerator had done the impossible, faced down the Empress and predicting her fall. The teal who brokered the first inter-species treaty and oversaw the birth of a new era. Stepping from her post gracefully as the Legislacerators were integrated into the Governate's new Regulagonists. A hero. 

What a joke. 

Hyralx Pyrope, the 'hero' that had stepped in a hundred sweeps too late. Torturer and tormentor. It was impossible to not think on her 'legacy' with a bile-like bitterness on her tongue. She hadn't stopped the Imperial juggernaut in time to save the prior four species she'd held the post of High Legislacerator for as the Empire wiped them out. Admittedly they'd all been exterminated in less than two human weeks. Indiscriminate bombing allowed a level of efficiency in genocide, something Earth had been spared by its sheer necessity. 

But the exterminations still happened, Hyralx had watched it happen. Ignored them. Paying attention only in her early career to the final genocidal phase of a once vibrant cosmic expanse. Her time coming as the Empire began what was affably 'cleaning up the dregs' out on the Galactic rim. So many species wiped out, with not even ruins left behind, not even names to be remembered by. The Empire and the fleet had been as brutal and merciless as they wished. Not that Imperial 'mercy' would spare the long slain xenos, it would have only procrastinated their destruction. Hyralx would have watched the desolation of Earth pass before her, just like the prior exterminations, had someone not reminded of her miserable conscious. Had she not found allies to fight beside, and a creed to guide her. 

Avarayri, Rymmyl, Marcyg, Disciple. 

Had she waited any longer, she might have culled their last hope of a definitive end. Just a few more nights and that would be it. 

That was where Hyralx's effort remained. Where her future lay, indistinct as it was. The wide net of her contacts across Earth had been focused towards keeping the peace and assisting the Disciple in her pursuit of a certain Cerulean. Even if Disciple didn't know it. Of course, the Olive didn't know Hyralx had gotten her Talon's on Periapte's report, and perhaps it would be for the best if Disciple never knew. After all, Hyralx would be lying if she said her assistance was purely charitable.

Mindfang had done a very good job hiding her paper trail, but the witness accounts Hyralx had found indicated the Avarayri had been transferred to the Impudent Arachnid. Hyralx knew not of what became of the Avarayri, but it felt proper to find out. The fact the ship was allegedly shared with the Dolorosa of all Trolls was just a coincidence, and honestly not a pleasant one. She knew well the Cerulean's proclivities, her salacious interests in the eccentric. But there was nothing Hyralx could do now but wait for word of the Arachnid to come in.

Honestly though, at this point Hyralx was tired of waiting. That familiar hunger was finally growing again, the voracious embracement of what was. Like a starved beast, Hyralx Pyrope was going to get off her haunches and cull her own solitude. It was inevitable. But for what?

Rymmyl was finally in a good place, overseeing the Lease, Degaal was comfortably in over his head, Marcyg was full retired and letting Hyralx stay with him. Disciple and the Psiioniic? Oh, they were going to need help with that profligate Nitram, to say nothing of their inevitable issues with Mindfang. But Hyralx wanted to keep herself in the shadows for as long as possible. 

As Pyral peaked over the final hills and they caught sight of Jagadaig, Hyralx pondered it.

The life ship rose almost five kilometers above the flats of Death Valley, it's length was almost twice that and standing alone amidst the wastes it rose up like a terrible false mountain. Yet, it was not the dim bio-luminescent lighting that picked up around it's cracked hull on it's base and up its sloped shell, it was human light. The tiny muted buildings that had popped up surrounding and climbing it were all of human make. Populated by Trolls that had taken the deal with the local government, those who had yet to get transport elsewhere, mixed laborers and odd humans that had settled in the shadow of the Jagadaig.

In spite of their genocidal arrival, many humans held a bafflingly curiosity that made Hyralx preen a little. Such eager things. However their focus was not upon the bottom of the growing settlement, Hyralx looked instead to the top of the Life ship as Pyral batted her wings upwards.

The air thinned, as they rose, but it was of little issue to a Legislacerator who'd spent her young sweeps atop Pyral. The ascent a comfortable one as she caught a few mixed words on the wind, rapidly failing as they rose higher. Faint smells of weld and mixed sapients, gone as the Jagadaig's 'peak' came into sight. Wide expanses of the top was covered in flat Imperial solar panels to power the town and it's operations, but a few scattered buildings had been brought up here. Small converted craft and alien 'portable homes' that belonged to those who valued privacy. One of which happened to be the property of Marcyg Petang and Arhwyx Rymmyl. A vibrant red and black painted wheeled thing that at least doubled the living space of Rymmyl's once shuttle. Hyrlax's own shuttle was parked down beside, holding what little she had left.

Her warship had been lent out to the Governate, until such a time they were able to refit their navy to a satisfactory degree. Not that Hyralx really needed a warship these days. At least until someone gave her the location of the Marquise.

Pyral brought herself down without much grace, enormous tail walloping the already bruised chitin. Folding her wings she lowered her head, allowing Hyralx to gingerly hop off. The enormous lusus did not immediately withdraw her head, sniffing idly with the look she was waiting for something.

"Honestly." Hyralx said to herself, feigning exasperation as she scratched the underside of Pyral's chin. Earning one enormous happy chuff from the beast before she departed, walking off towards an empty spot of ship to sleep. Something that was shared, switching to a diurnal schedule had been hard but Hyralx was almost there. With a creaking yawn she made her over to the trailer.

Even before she opened the door, Hyralx smelled the books and the vanilla. Stepping inside was the lightless mess Marcyg called hive. 

Books, books everywhere one could conceivably put them. Almost all of alien make, human printing surplus had allowed the former Lygtagt-Kaigari to horde a veritable reliquausoleum of xenos literature. Even more impressive considering the limited space. The cooking, welcoming and resting blocks had more or less been merged into a singular space, Marcyg himself sitting amidst his pile upon his loungeplank. Though at this point he was thoroughly buried. Enough Hyralx could only see his feet.

"Marcyg?"

The olive twitched, and from out of the pile she saw two olive feline eyes appear, looking up from the piece he was reading. A claw revealing the held 'Don Quxiote' only the title really visible. He huffed, his eyes turning back to his reading. "Was wondering when you'd make it back. Think you got mail."

Idly, she clicked. "My thanks sir."

The old Olive grunted and said nothing more. Not one for conversation by any stretch of the imagination but good company in spite of it. Hyralx made her way over to her lodging at the back end of the trailer, a bunk barely two tall to move, and just wide enough for a Troll and a few pitiable things to rest. Hyralx could not ask for more.

Climbing in and pulling the small privacy curtain up behind her, she rolled over to her things, a small humming computer of alien make, a jar of sopor and a small stuffed human 'dragon.' Adorable as it was, and as eager as she was to get to sleep, she opened the computer instead. Flinching at the shock light of the screen. She did not wait for her eyes to adjust, instead withdrawing her namesake glasses to look over things. The world dyed red and became visible once more, and true to his word a number of messages had popped up in her 'BadgerMate'. 

The familiar bright blue and jagged quirk made her grin. 

"Well well well, what have you got for me Rymmyl?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting out what everyone's been doing is probably the hardest part of all this. Whose doing what, whose life is getting better and whose life is going to get much much worse. (Unfortunately the last one is mostly Disciple. Poor thing.) 
> 
> Next; **- > Mazdak 'Che' Nitram; Commit warcrimes that would make Hideki Tōjō blush.**
> 
>  **- > Darkleer; Disconcertingly ogle the Sikh hunk.**
> 
> **- > Layman; Attempt to keep your quadrants from fucking dying.**


	3. Shadows Hung and Hanging

#### \- PG.Commonwealth of Canada, Ontario, Sudbury

( ♋︎ ) "Sarah?" Layman Lepzig knocked on his moirail's door. "Hey, are you up?"

There came a noise made by an alien that could best be described as a 'glurg.' Not good, unfortunately this specific glurg was an improvement to prior glurgs and glops. It sounded like it was coherent. For the past two weeks it had been coughing and retching, the kind where Layman couldn't separate the unconscious coughing and retching from the conscious sort. The Rustblood pushed open the door. 

Sarah Piłsudski looked almost as bad as she sounded. Humans could be paler then even fresh out of the cocoon wigglers and then some, but at the moment Sarah was on the level of sun-bleached bone, letting her dark veins glare out. The colour was faded in her lips and eyes, the byproduct of a dropped resting temperature, one that even being bundled up under three duvets and wearing a thick red wool turtleneck did little to abate. Her eyes were just barely open, enough he caught a tiny glimpse of dimmed blue-green. Peaked over at him about as well as someone could when their body had been halfway to shutting down a few days ago.

Contrary to what he'd been told before he'd arrived on Earth, Humans were not weak and despicable. Most were more accurately insane and kind of wanted nothing to do with him. Aside a handful. When Layman had met Sarah she'd probably been an inch from culling him. And honestly? She was probably one of the bravest people he'd ever met, considering she was one of the humans that was not absolutely insane. She could handle herself, she didn't need him most of the time.

But at the moment, Sarah's state set off the pale alarm like a siren in his gut. Diminished after the extent of her fleet-hatched illness but still there. Still starting up the internal drumbeat of 'fuck' over and over again as he set to work. With the heavy and mucus-strained breathing hanging over his head he walked over to the bed and carefully pulled the half-conscious human out of the blanket pile to get her upright. Something complicated by her immediate slump back and glurgs of discontent. 

Layman sat himself down on the bed, pulling Sarah up against him so she had something to lean on. Finally letting him grab the bottle of medicine and the spoon resting on the bedside table. The moment he cracked the bottle the smell hit him. It made his eyes water up. Noxious and meant to make the consumer miserable, just like most Troll medicine. This whole thing had been vile though, from the initial 'stabilizing' needle that looked more suitable for a highblood's lusus than a human, to the tongue burning medical syrup he carefully poured. 

Nasty, but infinitely more preferable to a slow agonizing death by way of Fleet-pathogen.

He closed his nose as best he could as he poured a spoonful of gelatinous green 'liquid'. A cool clammy face pressed into his should, lasting grumbling coming on that might have been a long winded 'no.'

"Come on. Your breathing tubes will clog up without it." He popped the bottle back down on the table, then pushing up Sarah by her forehead. Eyes a little wider, if still slits focused on him. She didn't fight it, opening her mouth for the spoonful. 

"Better?" Sarah visibly shuddered as she swallowed.

She blinked, eyes finally opening consciously. "Yeah. God that stuff's awful." Her croaked Imperial sounded about as close to a troll's voice as a human could get. Unfortunately improved by her illness. Hearing Sarah talk washed away the worry and dimmed the drumbeat of internal cussing. 

"Hey it works. Turn?" He said and began the routine examination. Making sure the illness Sarah was nursing wasn't something worse, if her extremities started discolouring it meant it was brack-prong or a vitiating mold. But just like every other check there was nothing. Just bleached hide. Checking her temperature, finding it wanting but still improving. Last, unconnected to her illness he covered Sarah's working ear and snapped a finger into the opposite. "Anything?"

She shook her head. "Nothing." 

"Shit." Layman chittered. Both of them were pretty sure it was ear damage, the psi blast had probably ruptured her drum. If it had been louder she might have died. But that was the cost of real time psionic interfacing. No, he wasn't bitter at all about it. "When this blight passes we should probably find someone for a retrofit."

"That's pretty costly." Sarah managed before a cough took her. Strong enough it made her whole body shake out from her chest. 

"It's worth the cost." He managed before a hard slam came from the door. 

He creaked in frustration as Sarah started at the noise. "Was that... Was that Tiralx?"

Not like it could be anyone else. "Yea." Three months, and Layman had gotten himself pretty acquainted with Earth society. It was pretty alright. His matesprite Tiralx Zgaigk on the other hand was like a- well. A fish out of water. And rather than dealing with it for some reason she'd actually sunken deeper into the intoxicant pit. "Shit soon as you're up we're doing the frozen-featherbeasting." He sighed.

Sarah didn't exactly share his conversance with Tiralx's coping mechanisms. It would be more accurate to say the continued inebriation it freaked her out. Enough she even tried to get up. "Layman if you need to-" The hacking cough stopped her, though she kept trying. "If-" 

"Don't worry about it right now." Between the debilitating cough and Layman's own arm wrapping around her she finally stopped trying to stand. 

Her voice came with a croak that was nearly Trollish. "Can't not." 

"Tiralx managed to survive for a long-ass while on her own, like- before we were hatched. Her filth filters won't give out anytime soon." 

The answer didn't pacify her anymore than when it had been given last. "It's not an OD I'm-" Another fit was swallowed before it could hit full swell. "Layman she's gonna get herself to the point she falls into traffic or-" The cough came regardless of swallowing, forcing Sarah back down. While it wasn't exactly ideal it wasn't like they could argue or jam right now in this state.

"Sarah just focus on getting better. I'll worry about her, she's my matesprite."

" _God_ I hate this." She choked. 

"You and me both. Just lie down, I'll get you up for dawnfection. Uh- _Dinner_." He corrected himself to the proper human term for last meal. Which was technically closer to Gloamfast. 

"Hmpf, I..." She rolled back into the pile. "Alright."

"We can't lock my matesprite in the expulsion block for a week until your back up to one hundred." 

"Yea." The tiniest pallid snort. Small as it was it was way more reassuring than anything the medicutioners had thrown his way. With the spoiled spoon in hand Layman stood up and walked out. Theirs was a small place, a quick peak out their front door into the expansive communal hallway revealed no fidgety seadweller. Layman shook his head, making an internal note to contact Zahhak at some point. If he couldn't get the reason for her rapidly declining state out of Tiralx, he was probably the only one who could. 

Layman went back inside, back a ways into the kitchen, which provided the only window in the whole place. Something that he would never have gotten back on an Imperial world and fascinated him to no end. Imagine it, a rust-blood being allowed a window in a hive complex!

Outside, from ten stories up he saw the dark streets of Sudbury. No sign of a tall gilled figure below, between the heavy night and the gently blowing snow he saw nothing of Tiralx. Not that she would be seen if she didn't want to be. Even in her mess of a state she had a level of functionality. She bought her intoxicants with the money she earned. She didn't dwell about and if it wasn't for her almost non-presence and stench he might not have even known what she was doing. 

Kind of made him want to grab her and shake her at times. But he kind of wanted better circumstances for that. A life spent in exile since Alternia had blown up earned enough trust out of Layman she wouldn't cull herself. Turning away from the window and the frigid hostile cold that was lethal to anyone below seadweller, he walked over to the sink and tossed the spoon away. Thinking on what to do. No work, still a while until he had to worry about food. No one to talk to, nothing he could really do besides dick about on the human webway. Internet. Whatever it was called.

True to Sarah's word it was kind of a garbage fire, but an insightful one. 

Or he could just twiddle his thumbs and worry about one of his quadrants dying on him again.

Layman was spared from his inner machinations by a distinct mechanical ding from Sarah's thighresting-computevice. And older cubier alien device, she let him use it whenever he was able to not feel like an exploitative piece of shit. The ping of an urgent message let him get away from that feeling, even if humans didn't have the same object possessiveness trolls did he kind of struggled to get over someone letting him just sort of- use their stuff. Opening the dark grey 'laptop' Layman was greeted by a bright background of human artwork depicting a lusus-like alien creature known as a 'Llama' and a flashing icon. The alien Trollion equivalent of 'BadgerMate.' Opening the program he recognized the blinking antagonist's tag.

\-- obligatoryQuébécois [OQ]  began badgering occurrenceAuspicious [OA]  at [20:49] [EST]--

OQ: Miss Piłsudski?  
OQ: I do hope you haven't perished on me, I really can't handle this on my own.  
OA: sorrY alI  
OA: sheS stilL ouT oF iT  
OQ: Oh, apologies Mister Lepzig. I had hoped the worst of it was over.  
OQ: How far along is that flu of hers?  
OA: finallY waninG buT itS stilL prettY rougH iF iM beinG honesT  
OQ: Poor news in some regards, but I am thankful she'd finally recovering.  
OQ: And I am grateful for you sir. I could scarcely imagine what we'd have to do if Miss Piłsudski did not have you.  
OQ: I do mean that sincerely, much as I can with this miserable program.  
OQ: Haven't used one of these since Yahoo Messenger went down.  
OA: itS nO trolliaN foR surE  
OA: sO whyD yoU rinG? nO onE dieD righT?  
OQ: Nothing so dire I assure you.  
OQ: Just more news from the taskforce, people asking about Miss Piłsudski when they rightly well should have talked to her a month ago.  
OQ: Stubborn fools.  
OA: I caN pasS A messagE alonG iF yoU wanT  
OQ: It would be very much appreciated.  
OQ: That idiot Diggles actually won the party leadership nomination and just wanted to thank Miss Piłsudski for pushing him into the VBP. I Still don't know how he did that, but he did.  
OQ: Jennette is having difficulties with her DSF write-offs and needs some hand holding through the process.  
OQ: As well misters Laurence, Ludwig and Patrick are all interested in some help signing on for counselling. From the way they put it I suspect they're in worse straights then they let on, but that's just my intuition.

A lot of that flew over Layman's head. A lot of things did though, and he just did what he always did when he played intermediary and wrote down everything word for word. Except for that first thing, he recalled the weird human guy he'd seen on occasion, unshaven and kind of rotund. 

OA: uH  
OA: thaT ralpH guY woN thaT veteraN bonD partY thinG?  
OQ: Believe me, I was pretty incredulous myself. But he did it. Somehow.  
OQ: Absurd to think that this time next month Ralph Diggles could be in charge of the whole country. Depending on how the elections go of course, I haven't an idea as we're up about fifty partys.  
OQ: Then again it isn't the craziest thing to happen. They finally figured out who is going to inherent the throne when the Queen passes. It's some Karađorđević guy.  
OQ: Dieu protège la Reine. Vive la Reine.  
OA: huH  
OA: welL I goT alL thaT writteN dowN  
OA: neeD anythinG elsE alI?  
OQ: Aside taking care of you Moirail? Make sure you take care of yourself.  
OQ: Thank you Mister Lepzig, have a good night.  
OA: yoU 2 maN

\-- obligatoryQuébécois [OQ]  ceased badgering occurrenceAuspicious [OA]  at [20:57] [EST]--

The conversation ended, leaving him alone. Before the 'privacy violation pangs' could begin again he quickly exited the chat program and changed users. Before the twiddling and dread of failure could kick in he returned to his xenos studies. With only the occasional hacking cough for company.

( ♐︎ )

#### \- PG.USA, Colorado, Colorado Springs

Darkleer attempted to not stare. 

His attempt lasting a grand total of three seconds, before Solheim slumped down beside Ebonveil with a bag of ice in hand and was promptly snapped up by the Rust. Compulsion and the immediate desire to look away from the scandalous public affection turning him immediately away. Some petty internal attempt at castigation failed before he could even work up a satisfactory thought.

Darkleer in no uncertain terms leered. Knowing full well how unsettling it was for the common bystander despicable lowbloods and aliens alike, himself knowing what a poor habit it was. His pathetic attempts to diminish the weight of it more oft then not made it appear worse. His visor had been crafted specifically to hide his eyes, his hand always coming to cover mouth. Yet it simply shifted how he looked. Going from a cripplingly uncomfortable and lurid stare to something disconcerting and often worrying. His staring was not hatched of any of those things. Darkleer just- lacked words and need for detail kept him silent. Removed. As was proper of a blue retainer though he was so far removed from that position it was almost laughable. 

As he looked over towards the Aewroken, Darkleer was as helpless as chattel to the habit.

At the entrance of the alien relaxaxication establishment the Aewroken was conversing with local authorities. He looked just as Darkleer remembered him, standing straight and squarely with all the poise someone of noble station garnered. Even though he had lost his military uniform he retained an immaculateness most humans lacked or outright struggled against, his garb was like a courier from a distant colony, made of blackened leather and hiding most of his form. Aside his face, still covered in the groomed out of place alien hair, or a 'beard' as Solheim had called it. He had the same hard eyes that did not unnerve him so much as other humans in their smallness, they did not dart about like a frightened parasite's. But what drew Darkleer's attention above all else was the shock orange headgear, a larger, brighter version of the same odd garment he'd worn when Darkleer had served under him. One with a blade and a steel edged symbol woven into its binds. 

The sight made him deeply uncomfortable. He'd admittedly wished to find Aewroken at some point. The leaderly human deserved compensation as much as Solheim in function. But it went deeper, Darkleer should have perished. Would have perished had that human standing so calmly there not intervened. The battle against the Grand Highblood continued to haunt him as many experiences did.

On the other hand, he had little to offer aside empty thanks. Such was a hollow compensation, to say nothing of the fact Darkleer remained unable to overcome his thinking. Solheim and Megido were able to successfully cut through his own forged mannerisms. Strangers? Hardly. The bright headgear drew his focus like a magnet, internal categorization already attempting to lessen it. It was something lowblooded, despicably proud of its pitiable stature, wearing it on the head with a brazen symbol for all the world to see. Yet the memory of his authority sundered those thoughts. Darkleer remained trapped within himself.

The Blue's jaw tightened like a vice as the human authorities finished, turning about and vacating the establishment. An unheard word was exchanged between the proprieterror and the Aewroken before the former commander walked over. At the last few steps his gait changed, wearing down his prior stature. He sat into the seat beside Darkleer who attempted his very best to maintain an exterior that wasn't wound up tightly enough to snap chitin plate. 

Mercifully his focus was elsewhere. "It's nice to see you haven't gotten any more magnanimous since I last saw you Solheim."

Solheim growled toothlessly. "Thank you for the assistance sir. Also bite me."

"Just Singh now. I've officially left my posts, now that services won't be needed any longer." He looked back to the entryway, likely still dusted with bottle shards. "Well, hopefully."

No one spoke, Solheim sighing and adjusting his ice, Ebonveil not rightly acquainted with the other human lacking words. Aewroken himself content to sit for a moment looking off. The din of other, slowly recovering conversations and the noise of the world beyond coming. Need started the motion, but the calm returning allowed Darkleer to finally open his mouth.

"Aewroken, you have my thanks, for your timely intervention." He creaked.

The human turned up with a dry frown. "Think nothing of it. I would expect the same in turn."

"Me tossing someone out through a door without touching them kind of freaks humans out sir. And Leer is- well. He's Leer. We'd kind of escalate things." Ebonveil chittered ruthlessly. "Not that I wasn't going to break that arm if it'd hit I just-"

"Would have started a panic when you bodied him."

Solheim croaked out a laugh alone. "Then let us be content my arrival was timely."

Ebonveil reclined back while Solheim shook his head. "Alright. Appreciate it regardless. Mind if I ask why you're out here Si- Singh? Kind of weird you'd be out this way? I mean shit. You're home was way closer than us right?"

"Hmph." Aewroken looked away again, back to the bar. "To be honest, I can't really say."

"Like. You're on a motorcycle right?"

"Yes."

"Well-" Solheim audibly struggled to speak for a moment, eagerly griping and filling the in-between spaces of his words with frustration. Commoner behavior, though it was somewhat endearing now. "Well fucking elk cocks man, that's a long as way! All the way out here, across the fucking country for- for what- Just because I sent you an email!?"

"Would you think me a fool if I said yes?" His tone shifted, a little firmer with a note of xenos slyness that did not reach the Aewroken's eyes. 

Solheim's bark failed before it could begin under his moirail's grip. "Look, Mister Singh? I've heard a bit about you and foolish isn't a word I'd use. For you or coming out this way. I mean- Void's fat bulge." She pointed up at Darkleer. "Leer's been drooling to get a chance at paying you back for bailing him you guys out, even if we're kind of hanging just above broke. And really, I'd be down both of these two idiots if you hadn't bailed them out. So, thanks and all but- Coming all this way out here alone? Just for us? It feels like you've got reasons for going at it solo. Reasons that may not be healthy if you're taking needless risks." 

"Hm, I can't deny that sort of sound reasoning miss Megido."

"I was an Evocator, I get where you're coming from. " 

Aewroken sighed and leaned back into his seat. Looking off again. "I cannot really give anything concrete. When I was left to my own devices I found that..." He tapered off, lost in his own thoughts. 

Approaching steps, Darkleer with his head well above the pitiable booth walling noted the proprieterror walking over laden down with pitchers and bowls and a stack of glasses. The others turning and looking as he came up to the booth table. Solheim noted the excess of product, he hadn't expected such. "You might have-"

"You almost got bottled in my place." The human said decisively as he placed down the pitchers filled with odd smelling intoxicants, and the bowls filled with odder alien victuals. "This one's on the house."

"Eh. Thanks Jose." Solheim managed as he placed down the final pitcher and the glasses. 

"Don't even think about it." Without another word the proprieterror vanished back the way he'd come. Leaving them staring at the drink and sustenance. 

It pained him greatly to admit the fare of such a lowly establishment made his mouth water, two full bowls of what looked to be the some xenos equivalent to shaved meal-wasp spiracle's covered in some strange mire wafted an admittedly tantalizing flavour. Any hunger he had dimmed by the worrying focus Ebonveil had on the bubbling pitchers and the ominous bottle of black intoxicant. 

"Alright. What's the dark one and what's the yellow one and...?" A claw pointed towards the bottle.

"Eh, Guinness, water and some local brew." Solheim paused, before shoving the bottle out of arms reach from the Rust. "And that's Pulque. We get into Pulque later. You do not start with Pulque. Especially black Pulque. We do this controlled and not stupid." As Solheim separated the glasses and began pouring, Darkleer focused away from them. Satisfied the human had not suffered brain damage and Ebonveil's reason for this foolish outing was finally being fulfilled. Beside him, the Aewroken stared off, occasionally eyeing the pallid pairing before his own thoughts drew him away. It became obvious the human would say nothing unless prompted.

It would be prudent to inquire. Or at least to say something. But again he found his accursed jaw sealed. Darkleer eyed what he overheard to be the 'Nachos chip,' covered in what might possibly be curdled alien milk with a mix of chopped earth vegetation baked in. The food of this world was divisive. Either disgusting in taste and texture or...

As much as it pained him to admit, very flavorful. More so than it had any right to be. 

He watched as Ebonveil ate one of the alien chips. No revulsion and it was quickly buried with a drink of intoxicating venom. But then again, hardship had blessed her with a firm gut. And though she had many positive qualities, her taste in xenos foods was... Questionable. 

Going against his own instincts and three hundred sweeps of life spent amidst the Alternian Nobility, with the tips of his claws he carefully picked up one of the 'chips.' Everything about it was deceptive, too bright yet plain with overwhelming smells. Were he served such on Alternia, he would have suspected it a joke or a very overconfident attempted poisoning. But this was an alien world, and as perverse as the foodstuff was, it allowed him to unseal his jaw. 

Like most new foods, the texture of the coating curdled milk made him shudder. But the taste? Treacherously delightful. Bright and vibrant and perfect for hiding some murderous toxin. Darkleer could not complain as he swallowed and finally found his voice.

"If I may ask something Aewroken?" The human turned up to look up at him plainly.

"Of course."

"Surely... You have better places to be than here? No doubt there are many that could use a man of your stature and would be able to provide adequate compensation. I apologize if you still are lacking answers but, I find it difficult to understand you actions. Pleased as I am with the outcome."

Aewroken turned away, nodding to himself. "I imagine there are many places that would have me, and that I could secure a good position if I wished. Back home or anywhere else."

Megido chirped in with the faintest hints of xenos taking effect. A little brashness in speed. "But that isn't what you wish is it?" 

Aewroken let out an uneven breath. "Truthfully, all my wishes have burned themselves out. The Cliques have relinquished their power, and whatever comes, comes without bloodshed. Here anyways. I dealt with all the 'personal business' I could removed in my prior post. Yet-" He shook his head. "I find myself unable to do anything. But this, this was the only thing I had the strength to do. Seeking out others. Watch things from afar. I... I couldn't return to Canada. No more could I head out and seek a new commission. With the way things are I imagine any force on the earth, man or Troll would have me. Yet..."

"You can't." Ebonveil finished for him, pushing an empty glass in front of Solheim. 

"Yes. It feels as if there's a wall blocking me." The human's laugh came with a tinge he'd found in penal Evocators prior. A morbidness. "Which leads me wandering about tempting fate like some sort of errant Sant Sipahi. I might end up some T.E. Laurence if I keep wandering. Yet that does not bother me. What does is this silly self-restraint."

How laughable it was that a orange draped alien half his size sounded like some progenitor hero. Yet, not laughable to the point Darkleer was lacking voice. "With respect? If some malaise infests you, do not feel as if it should not be. You have a mortal form with limits. Rest a while Aewroken, configure yourself."

"Since when did you get so talkative?" Solheim said, as he finished a glass of water and ice, pushing it over to Aewroken.

"The Aewroken describes something I am familiar with. He is deserving of such."

"Hm. Thank you Darkleer. Ebonveil. I appreciate the kind words." He took a small drink, contemplating a moment longer. He still sounded worn and sly, but there was a faint focus to him when he spoke again. "Even if I can't think of anything else I could at least show a bit more caution in things. Until I find some proper trouble. Or the other way around."

He laughed, the faint sense of accomplishment crushed by his inability to offer anything besides words. Darkleer always compensated those he owed. As much by compulsion as the sake of his own Blue rectitude. "Solheim could we perhaps-"

"Offer him the couch?" He'd worried Solheim's tone had initially been facetious, but looking over he looked quite serious. Good. 

"Yes."

Aewroken attempted to wave both of his former subordinates off. "I can accommodate for my own lodgings, you don't need to worry about that."

"Honestly, even the clean places around here have some sketchy horse shit going on. Don't want you to wake up without a spleen sir. Can I?" He picked up an inebriation pitcher and the second last empty cup and shooting Aewroken a look. He did not refuse. "Tell you what, don't agree to anything now but think on it. You want somewhere to kick up for a while, it's all yours." Solheim said as he filled the glass and offered it to the other human.

It was accepted slowly. "Very well. I suppose we'll see what the answer is when the night closes."

"That's the spirit!" Ebonveil clapped, beside Solheim picked up the last glass and looked over to Darkleer with a worrying smile.

"Hey, Darkleer."

"Yes?" He forced himself to creak.

"Dark or pale?" The inordinate and sudden smugness could only mean he knew of the double entendre to his words. Not helped by Ebonveil's cackling. His skin was suffused now with a redness that could only indicate the venom's effect.

Truly, it was a burden to be the only responsible one. But he likely couldn't worm out a refusal.

After a moment spent glaring at the noxious bubbling alien drinks he gambled. "Dark." 

He poured the glass, the flat toothed xenos grin not shrinking an inch as he pushed the cup over to Darkleer. The froth on top reminded him of stock Alternian milk, but the body of the drink was pitch. The smell? Entirely unfamiliar. Hundreds of ambitious nobles would have enjoyed his forced bravery and sudden shift to overly strong sustenance.

Solheim refilled his own glass and raised it up over to Aewroken. "Here's to us big stupid heroes then. We extras the author didn't get around to wacking."

"I can toast to that." The morbid alien laughed and clinked his cup against the offered one, completing the alien ceremony. Both drank, and suddenly realizing it was entirely inappropriate to not do the same, Darkleer drank. 

And he immediately regretted his choice.

( ♉︎ )

#### 'The Rim,' Territory formerly held by the Australian Commonwealth, Ruins of Sydney

With a sigh, Mazdak Nitram cut the power to his translator and hefted his plasma lance. _"Eat my whole fucking asshole you horned cunts-"_ The aliens head was blasted off in a burst of white fire, the charred shirtless torso hit the floor, wall behind blackened. Mazdak had hoped he'd be able to get something out of the remaining humans, but every time they caught one it refused no matter what they did to them. Kind of stubborn, they reminded him mostly of highbloods, in spite of their red blood. 

No one in their impromptu extraction block spoke as Mazdak pulled a rag from his belt and began wiping away the fresh char from its now stained body. The plasma lance had started out pearly like all Imperial issued weaponry. But the sweeps had turned it grey, numerous stains of darker shades seeped into its still piercing end. 

Of course, there were only his sub-Lygtagtii in the room with him. "They just don't know when to give up do they?" The Returner's words came half hushed under the chitin mask he wore, hiding away the burn scars he'd received for his dissent. Pierre Velyes had earned his name by being nigh unkillable, returning from multiple certain cullings to harass the highbloods before the humans had managed their asspull. The armoured bullish Rust blood walked over, grabbing the corpse by the foot. Mazdak only saw his eyes through the greenish plate before he turned and started dragging the body out. Traced with red and half lidded. Mazdak's remaining Sub-Lygtagtii remained quiet as the door opened, and Returner's steps slowly faded. 

"No." Mazdak said to himself, as he inspected his weapon. Satisfied he rested the heavy infantry weapon on his shoulder and turned to his followers.

Flight command Gnosis Ratite had blanched, looking even younger than he actually was. Only joining the ground forces two sweeps prior, amidst the invasion of Sufferer's Rest he'd risen up the ranks with swiftness second to Mazdak's own ascent. But he looked like a mess, eyes strained out two wide, rough Aeriattack command uniform disheveled. "Isn' this wise? Just blasting the lot of them when they're kneeling... Feels bloody damp and peppered."

"Can't afford to play nice with these xenos flyboy, they play tyrant just as quick as the coldbleeds. At least as long as they continue to play with Degaal and his opportunists." Sub-Lygtagt Basileon chittered. A short but nonetheless impressive Gold blood, Velyes had been with Mazdak from the start, while Ratite had joined on after the Vanguard uprising had begun. Basileon had been the last to join him after the retreat to the Rim. Synesi Knelex had already been named then, Basileon for his leadership of a force composed entirely of freed pilots. His spiked hair was only kept in line by a bright red headband. He wore only a chitin chest guard, a command visor and army slacks, freely displaying the grotesque scars of a pilot. A hard eagerness in his glowing blue eyes. 

Ratite growled at the psion. "They don't have no options. None to by like cornered beasts."

Basileon hissed right back. "And neither do we. Until we shatter that would-be regent and seize the Lease." 

Mazdak carefully made his way between the two, as a good leader should. At least as he'd done whenever his people came to bare their fangs, which was unfortunately common these days. "Don't feel too bad for them Ratite, the pale ones only showed up a hundred sweeps ago here and put the original humans out of everything. Outright slaughtered them in some cases. If our positions were reversed they'd be absolutely pleased with culling the lot of us."

"I'm bloody well aware. I just-" He struggled, looking back to the blackened wall and the bloodied floor where many captured aliens had perished. "Surely there's to be a better way?"

Ah, the softness of youth. It almost stung. Mazdak shook his head clicking coolly. "As it stands, there isn't. Which forces us to use violence. Or else none of this would get done. We'd be shipped off to who knows where or forced into another pyramid with better optics." He put a hand on the other Bronze's shoulder, forcing him to look up. "Gnosis, I understand how you feel, but we're also backed against a wall right now. The Disciple has for the time being abandoned us and if we don't resort to force of arms we're either doomed to be culled or stuck under another tyrant. For the good of the whole galaxy, we need to do this."

Gnosis looked away, back to the culling spot before he nodded. "Aye yea. Pray, forgive me sir. The minutia of our task wears well on me."

"Remember. Every death serves an ethical and strategic purpose." Mazdak turned back to Basileon who'd put a hand up to his visor. Clicking through what looked to be new information. "Update on infiltration status?"

"The Lease is at about two percent laid, though we are ranking sub-percentages daily. With the full recon we now have everything we need for the OP. All we need is time and luck now." He leaned back, smile fading into a grimace. "As for the fleet, I have confirmation we have enough of a presence to rush out the dock-sites in seven of eight locations. A hasty take and we'll have full orbital control. But again, if infiltration fails the Synod will be our only option."

"Methinks this bleeding Synod was inevitable." Ratite chittered beside.

The psion let out a vicious hiss. "I can't for the life of me imagine how exactly a bunch of highbloods won over the Disciple of all people. Vile guess that the milk-suckers actually drove her out of her cursed pan." 

His glared faded as Mazdak took a step over, flashing what looked to be a confident grin. Externally. Internally the thought of confronting the spiritual regent of the Sufferer made him want to squirm. The harsh words of her condemnation still stung. "There's hope I can win her back, if the Psiioniic joins us at the Synod that's all the more ammunition for us. The fact he was trapped on the Iotaoise should be more than enough to bring him in no matter what seaweed they've been feeding him." 

Neither could contest his confident facade. Either fooled by it or unwilling to press at his cracks.

"Aye aye." Ratite saluted him, moving to walk out the door. All three men jumped when a chitin clad heal kicked the door in. Mazdak manged to keep himself from starting, while Basileon jerked and Ratite popped a good foot off the ground. Returner burst in with all his usual subtlety, a very small and very frightened Olive soldier under his arm. 

"Nitram-" The Rust dropped the Olive on her feet before Mazdak. "Mediassailant Vernim. We've got a problem."

Making a mental note to have a conversation with Returner at some point about personal space and grabbing random trolls for the sake of 'speeding things up' as he carefully pulled the petrified officer away.

"What's the problem soldier?" Mazdak clicked out with as much charm as he could muster. 

"Sir-" The still shaking Vernim pulled out a small tablet, cheaply made for a sub-squad commander. She handed it up to him, an image already on screen, revealing a photograph of a dead troll. A threshecutioner with a significant portion of her throat missing and oddly pale. "We found her like that on the ruin outskirts this dawn. Barely a drop of blood in her body and no sign of a culprit. I- I have no idea how it happened or who did it but-" 

He stopped her before she could continue, handing the tablet back to the Olive. "Easy soldier. Might be local fauna, considering what we've dealt with. But it also might be more saboteurs, or even highblood foul play. Send word for the outer patrols double up in number. I don't want anyone running rounds alone." 

"Yes Sir." The Mediassailant bowed and ducked out of the room, a little calmer but still likely frazzled from the experience. 

Mazdak looked back at his followers. Returner's eyes were a little more focused, though Ratite and even Basileon looked disconcerted by the news, the latter clicking nervously. "Well? If there isn't anything else you're dismissed. I trust you can take your own measures with your own people." 

He walked out of the grim bloodstained block before the three could respond, eager to get away from the stench of crisped humans. Eager to be away from his own thoughts as he made his way out of the occupied human dwelling, just one of many that had been incorporated into his core base. Alien made walls mixed with artificial chitin, beneath his step placed sand and soon cracked asphalt. 

Mazdak could think when he wanted too, when he needed to. But he wasn't the sort of troll who liked dwelling on things. Doubt and inertia could cull a troll as sure as any highblood boot. Nothing to be done, frustrating and taxing on the soul, but that was it. Humans. A race with the Sufferer's blood but salt-bleed spirits. Nasty little things, he didn't want to cull them but they needed to be put into their place. The Vanguard needed this planet, and very specific parts of this planet more than the natives did. To rebuild their numbers and to stage the beginning of a galactic spanning assault. Someone had to stamp out every wannabe Makara and wouldbe Condescension. 

It stung. But there was nothing to be done. 

The needs of hundreds of billions of lowbloods outweighed a few billion reactionary xenos. 

Mazdak Nitram still flinched as he stepped out into the light of day. Earth's day even if it had nothing on Alternia and all its simulated daylight was still blinding. Inside the ships they simulated the Alternian night, and he'd spent most of his life in that miserable shadow of a dead planet. Literally and proverbially. 

He flapped his wings experimentally, a part of Mazdak still not used to having his enormous mutations showing. But it was impossible to deny the freedom to stretch his wings made him feel like a million Keagars. He jumped and took off.

The world spread out beneath him as he flew up. Higher and faster than any cold-bleed could hope to do. He could see it, the gorgeous mess that he found himself trapped on. Dark blue were the oceans, and the bay they'd set themselves up beside. The hills rolling distant and flush with life. Alien ruins and the pitiable base he'd established here were diminished beside the raw colour and the rising sun. The sight made him smile, as much as the freedom of flying. 

"Yea. My kind of shitshow."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't wait for Dirk and Summoner to fight over the _Sarin Gas_ reserves.
> 
> Next; **- > Avarayri; Gleefully accept the position of Sunkist juice-pouch.**
> 
> **- > Dolorosa; Wake up and smell the ashes.**


	4. Sight Without Seeing

( ◉ ) The whole, 'lasting relationship with a woman who had mad alien vampirism' thing had worked out pretty well for Gael. Probably helped by her really fucked up stance on social acceptability and what was probably an even more fucked up familiarity being on the bad end of Dolorosa. Probably not a healthy attitude. Not that Gael really cared about health, or at least, Gael couldn't really work up the will to care anything outside of the little world she'd fallen into.

But there were a few issues she couldn't ignore. Such as Dolorosa knowing when she was having her flow well before Gael even knew because fuck her and her irregular cycle. More concerning and infinitely less funny to literally everyone who wasn't Gael were the Jade's 'instinct' problems. She could make a noise somewhere between a pissed off cat and a full on xenomorph hiss if someone walked in uninvited, territorial fixations making her grabby at the best of times. In terms of diet Dolorosa one hundred percent needed blood to survive and would gradually get more aggressive and clicky the longer she went without eating. Worse, she tried very hard to hide the fact she was hungry, because she was stubborn like a bear in its den when she wanted to be. 

Like right now.

The day was long since over, leaving them alone to themselves. Getting cut down to hearing and touch had forced Gael to adapt, everything was measured in step numbers and arms lengths, surroundings determined by resting noises. She could tell every Troll she knew by the way they walked, step length and resting weight. They varied so much it was actually pretty easy compared to humans. Gael was most familiar with Dolorosa most, she'd gotten the Jade's steps down even before being blinded. Now she could paint a pretty damn good picture of her. Right now that picture said she was a little under starving.

Dolorosa tried to obfuscate it, but that worked way better when you had eyes to see with and she could use immaculateness and her stiff upper fang to full effect. From where Gael lay on the bed she could hear Dolorosa on the loveseat six even steps away, trying to keep herself from making the odd 'hunger' noise. It had no human parallel, even to all the other aliens Gael had heard couldn't make the noise. An odd popping produced in the upper chest. The closest thing Gael could compare it to was the noise of rice krispies in milk, if the cereal was made of aluminum and the milk was hydrochloric acid. 

She tried to mask it with her breathing and scraping a toe claw against the floor, but it didn't hide the noise or the other things. Even then Gael could make out the twitches in Dolorosa's movement, re-adjusting herself forcefully too often. Well above the hasty movements of stress and anger. Normally Gael wouldn't say anything. She couldn't feed every night with the way the group cycled donation duty. But this was the third night in a row, it was getting painfully obvious it wasn't going away. Throw in the high possibility of some asshole shooting off fireworks at some point later in the evening and doing something was now non-negotiable. 

She pulled herself up, turning her ear to the Jade. "You're doing it again."

Dolorosa shifted, but it was controlled, obvious. All of her tension was sunken into her legs which just braced like she was about to pounce. Trying to hide the twitches. "Pardon?"

"The snapping you make when you get like this." Another shift, manufactured beside the clap of a book closing. 

"I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about." Articulated, careful.

Oh god she was going to have to push this. "You're hungry."

"Not at all."

As if on command a treacherous faint pop came, loud enough they'd both heard it. A hard creak of annoyance.

"You sound like you are." Gael said as she rolled up to her feet, practice making the motion almost seamless. Almost. A part of her still felt like she would topple over whenever she stood up. "So let me take a stab at it. Juchen, Ingham and Syhrag are still on cooldown, with the flux going around everyone else is off feeding duty and you are thinking you can just sneak by a few days until someone is in a position to donate again?" Dolorosa's hiss faded in and out of existence, frustration as her head shifted back, looking away probably. Gael remembered it in fuzzy memories of the Ship and more recent touches what she was doing. "Rosa I can literally hear your ears doing the shame thing."

The obfuscatory self-control was abandoned, Gael heard the small-sofa-turned-chair audibly groan as the Jade's facade gave out and she fell back into it. "And just what can I do about it dearest?"

If Gael rolled her eyes it wouldn't have done anything. Something she was keenly aware of as she carefully walked over, each step controlled and measured. Hand placed out in front of her to try and keep her from bumping into the loveseat. It was almost gone now, but when her hand finally found the arm rest it was hard not to feel like a joke. Congrats Murdoch, you now have the walking function of a toddler again. 

She ignored the self directed contempt as she leaned up on the armrest. "Am I going to need to spell it out?"

Quiet, forced breathing. Lull in traffic beyond made it all the more obvious. "If you're suggesting what I think you're suggesting. No."

"Maryam if you want me to shout to the heavens I'll be your juice box I'll-"

"No!" She half snarled the word down at Gael with a forcefulness that would make most Trolls flinch. Gael didn't flinch, thanks again brain damage. Instead she just felt slightly more miserable as Dolorosa backpedaled immediately, pulling away from her as much as the loveseat allowed. "No it's- it's fine-" One interruption was paid in turn. 

"It isn't fine. I can hear you just sound bad. We have the bleeder, it's clean, we know how much you can take out of me. There's nothing wrong with it. Especially if you need it."

A pause. Slow exhale, struggling to find words.

"I... detest drinking from you. The last thing I wish to do is normalize it." The Jade chittered softly. "I already hate we did it and I hate the fact I'm overly familiar with what you taste like. Hunger is preferable and I swear I'll have something on the morrow."

Gael put out her upturned hand. It hung out there as Saryii shifted, probably leering overhead from the way she was breathing. Perhaps hoping there would be some relent here. But there was none to be found. 

Dolorosa took her hand slowly. Excessively cautious and terribly stiff, to the point she didn't even properly hold on. Rosa didn't shake like a human would when she was hungry, instead she twitched, in their current position Gael could feel the involuntary motions. Tips of her claws turning away much as they could, for fear she'd take another divot out of the human. With how strong Dolorosa was, all it would take was one strong clench and she could probably break most of the bones in Gael's hand. 

There wasn't any vindication from confirming what was already painfully obvious. "Come on, I don't like you being out of it like this when all it will take is a few minutes of my time and no sweat off my back." She didn't move, breathing still hard. Gael waited, in part not wanting to rush something that was obviously a bigger issue than she'd thought. But mostly because bar shoving her entire forearm into Dolorosa's jaws, this was Gael's only card. 

Hastily the clawed hand released Gael's. "Fine. One cup."

Dolorosa rose with a haste that made it difficult to follow her, only the occasional heavy foot and claw scrape following her out to get the 'bleeder.' Needle, feed line, bag and a cup to drain it into after the fact. A significant improvement to the knife and the crusty mug they'd had during their long walk across Tunis and the Mediterranean. Not that someone on the outside would know that, some of the older trolls had even complained the new equipment was ineffective. 

With a grunt Gael climbed up onto the love seat's armrest to wait, though she did not have to wait long. It felt like she'd just balanced herself when she felt Dolorosa hanging over her. Focus in action making her almost noiseless. "Arm."

"Is it really so bad drinking my blood?" 

Gael extended her arm, letting Dolorosa grab her wrist, the feeling of cotton rubbing up against her inner arm following beside. The Jade didn't say anything at first, though Gael heard her restrain another creak. "Yes." She barely opened her mouth to say it, as she finished cleaning. 

The cotton vanished, faint tutting coming as the back of a claw ran over the length of Gael's neck. She shivered. "Since we arrived on your world after everything? Mine malison has worn on me more acutely than it did before. As much as I'm in control of it I feel heavy on my actions now that Mis-" The misspoken word disintegrated into a growl, claw on Gael's neck pulling away with a jerk. She forcefully corrected herself. Now that Mindfang doesn't have me. The last thing I want to do is find myself acting like some parasite you've grown wont for."

The bite of the needle stopped Gael from saying anything, forcing her to lean back as the drip started. As much to keep the lightheadedness from setting in as to make sure the Jade didn't do it for her. It wasn't anything she hadn't heard before in snippets. Put altogether though, it still made her grumble. 

"Rosa I love you to death but that's the dumbest thing you've ever said to me. And-" Gael jumped in before the Jade could start hissing. Dolorosa hissed anyways, but Gael talked over it. "Before you start I get where you're coming from! You got the shortest stick on the planet. But- your needs- they don't make you a parasite. Everyone has needs, you need blood, I have blood, I'm fucking fine with you having some if you need it! I'm here for you." The low hiss faded away, leaving only distant traffic to fill the air beside a tension brought on by mutual pause. The hand wrapped around her wrist holding the tube and needle in place revealed nothing. Indignation failed with the little earnestness Gael could vocalize.

Leaving her with the morbid glibness of not actually caring at all about being chewed on. "You know. As your juice box."

"You have an unhealthy affection for that term." Dolorosa scoffed dryly.

"There isn't anything wrong with being a juice box Rosa. As long as I'm your juice box." 

The back of a hand lightly bopping her on the top of the head was ignored beside the low winding laugh. Deep in the chest and almost unheard, but Gael could almost see the smile in her head. 

"If I didn't know better I'd say you have some peccant interest in me biting you."

"I mean, I kind of do. Just not to the point it shows in public."

Another low laugh. "Intolerable midge." Though the hand holding the bleeder was still tense, the weight of it was gone in her voice. Dolorosa carefully sat down beside her, still wound but without the deliberate obfuscation and distance.

It did away with the tension in the air, letting the bleeding pass quickly. The needle was withdrawn and the puncture sight quickly cleaned and bandaged. Lightheadedness came regardless, making it easy to zone out until a cold cup was pressed into Gael's hand. The Jade collapsing back into her seat beside Gael. She waited.

A clink of fang meeting glass, uneven, low swallowing. Slow to the point it was forced. Not wanting to waste what little was there. Back further and further until it sounded like Dolorosa was running her tongue along the glasses interior to pick up the residual. She might have been, Rosa hated wasting blood. "Good?"

One final swallow, followed by a low exhale. "Yes." She leaned forward, the clink of glass meeting wood coming before she leaned back. Close enough to allow a calmed arm to wrap around Gael. "Much better."

"Good."

It was nice to not feel useless these days. Had to take every scrap of it she could get. Gael leaned back into the seat, drinking the water before Dolorosa could, justifiably, berate her over the risks of dehydration. Finishing it she let herself slide down into Dolorosa's lap and after a quick check of floor's distance, put the glass down. "So. Any plans for the night?"

"Aside ignoring the revelry?" Dolorosa chittered as her head turned, probably looking out the window. "I was going to spend it reading. Unless, of course, you have any ideas?" The suggestion hung there with perhaps unintended ambiguity. There wasn't much they could do, aside from the glaring obvious thing.

Between the distinct inability to see herself, a total and utter disregard for the Invert's newfound sway and the prospect of giving Dolorosa something new that no one could ruin, intimacy was far easier than expected. Gael's currents state probably only exacerbated it. Wooziness allowed for a kind of bravery. Less actual bravery and more of a disregard for hangups and civility. 

More of the former than the latter for her. "Eh, you know, like..." With all the coordination she possessed, (which admittedly wasn't much) Gael stuck her tongue into her cheek, opened her mouth into an 'o' shape and made a loose rubbing gesture with her hand beside. 

Open laughter was rare from Dolorosa, who almost giggled at the gesture. As far as laughter went 'giggle' was the closest thing one could call it, as it was still drawn from a fanged mouth and a husky tongue. Hard on the human ear, but it still let Gael split a big dumb grin. 

"Well." The laugh wound down into a lean and silken voice, one she only broke out when they were alone. "I haven't the faintest idea of what you could be implying with that sort of motion Dearest."

"Oh come on, you're doing the hot voice now."

"The 'hot' voice?"

Gael carefully rolled herself up, ignoring the warmth on her face. "You know what you're doing Rosa. Also completely down for it." 

"Are you sure? With the blood we just drew, I don't want you to strain yourself." A world more relaxed was the hand that wrapped around her back, pulling her closer. Her tone shifted, quiet and a little somber. 

"It's not like I'd be standing up." Gael snorted as she reached down and grabbed the bottom of her shirt and crudely yanked it up, pulling it up over her head and off. "So are you interested or am I just going to spend the night getting spooked by fireworks like a rescue dog?" 

The shirt was pulled from from her grasp and tossed aside. "Well with a display like that how could I not be inflamed with concupiscent want?" Her words oozed sarcasm, before Gael could say anything a hand snaked under chin and pulled it up. "Still, I appreciate the forwardness."

Fanged lips pressed against her own. Claws pulling Gael close, almost on top of her as Dolorosa leaned back. She tasted like her own blood and the odd bite only she possessed. An Irony mix that reminded her of absinthe encased in sharp lips. Every part of Dolorosa was dangerous. One bite was all it would take to rend something vital, but between the two of them her stiletto sharp fangs were navigated safely. She could probably break Gael in two with how strong she was, but her touch was gentle and relaxed now. Claws even filed down could rend her were careful, aside one that traced under her ear. Freely scraping at the skin.

Admittedly, Gael's initial comfort had been borne out of a carelessness. What did a corpse have to fear from any beast? Nothing. But now?

Being this close to Dolorosa she felt... Safe. Happy. Like she wasn't a waste of skin or a cosmic joke. So much so worrying about Rosa's sharp edges was laughable.

Teasing nips of the lip and exploring hands didn't disguise the Jade's own warmth. Her body heat rested far lower than any humans, usually falling around to room temperature. But being so close Gael could feel the rise, even through her own blush. The dissuading prods were responded in turn, a cautious hand rubbing up the length of one of Dolorosa's horns. Wringing a crooning purr from the Jade.

In the embrace Gael's already weakened sense of location deteriorated as the world disintegrated to a distant hazy void outside of the enormous rumbling and thorned woman holding her. Gael's own sense of self falling apart beside and only pulling back when something scrapped up onto her. A hand tweaking at her breast reminding her that her chest existed outside of it being pressed against Dolorosa's shirt, leg ridding up between her own pulling a distinct awareness of herself together. Something usually ignored.

The embrace broke abruptly, Dolorosa half pushing her off with a haste that could only mean one thing. "Should I...?"

"No I can handle everything. Now off with you."

Gael rolled off the Jade's lap, quickly standing and after confirming her location touching the armrest she usually sat on, stumbled off to the bed. The noise of a flustered troll behind chittering loudly as she tried to rid herself of her clothes without ripping or "dyeing" anything behind. Drumming foot finding the boxspring that signaled bedding, Gael pulled off the her underwear and fell onto the rough bedding. There was an attempt at making herself look like less of a mess, rolling on her side and attempting to be 'demure.'

Steps, a cupboard being open and the inverse. The attempt at being halfway seductive looking going about as well as Gael expected as Dolorosa choked out a laugh that she tried and failed to bury. "Hey I'm trying here."

"I know." The bucket clanked as it was placed down beside the bed, and before Gael could really do anything a kiss was pressed against her head. "I appreciate the attempt regardless. My damsel."

Trying to ignore her renewed blush Gael abandoned her position as Dolorosa eased herself down beside. Damsel, she used it in the archaic sense, even if she knew the human context to the word. Even if now Gael wasn't totally helpless it stirred the ignescent beast, bringing on an old tension in her chest. "I'm not exactly rescue bait."

Dolorosa paused. Probably the only person in the whole universe who realized how bad the struggle was. How helpless Gael was in it. Her claws brushing across the nape of Gael's chest before the flat of her palm pushed her down on her back. Low wordless clicking coming as Dolorosa loomed overhead.

"I know. Just..." One hand braced the Jade as she leaned down, the other pulling Gael's thigh's apart. "We won't have to worry about rescues anymore darling."

"There's the hope."

Any further conversation was abandoned with a kiss. The waking world abandoned to Dolorosa for a time.

( ♍︎ )

The little thing was limp where it had fallen. Hide broken and pierced by its own white bones.

It made the cobalt slurry stick out all the more, clashing against the brown tinted shades and the pooled crimson. Breathing slow but apparent. Audible. She should be relived the thing yet lived.

The lack of control stole such. Pulsing Cerulean inside her own head stole any contentment and twisted it about into something sickly and black. She tried to turn away. Couldn't. Tried to get up. Couldn't. Couldn't do anything as a familiar set of incisors sunk into her neck and-

Dolorosa jerked back into her own body though scarcely in control of it with the blare of some horn beyond in the streets below. High pitched and shrill the wretched noise hurt her ears, though that was hardly the least of her concerns. She felt half sodden in sweat and her whole body felt petrified, breathing like she'd been out running for her life again. Dolorosa only then realized she'd been snarling, cutting the feral noise in her throat as she struggled to regain control of the body that had rolled itself back against the wall with her Other Half gripped against her chest.

She couldn't keep the panic snarl down, couldn't even move a finger as the dayterror- the nightmare to be apt- faded away. Nothing but the room, nothing but the sleeping body beside. Safe, the both of them the rational part of her mind realized. But the panic remained, alive like a coiled serpent ready to strike inside her chest.

All of it too much, felt like the whole world was against her, trying to take everything away again.

Could scarcely even breath. "Hey." The snarl jerked reflexively back as a small toned arm wrapped around her, much as it could. Undaunted by the Colour eater's growl. "Come on, just breath and focus on me."

Faint gentle shooshing, a firm hold that was unbothered by the terrified grip. Little by little the bitter remnants of the fading nightmare passed away into a mangling of brown, red and blue. Breathing forced through her nose slowing. Tension winding down until it was just Dolorosa lying there in covered in her own sweat holding onto Gael.

What a dreadful farce she was. A grown matron so easily riled by dreams? Pathetic.

The misbegotten feeling of recreance diminished as her Avarayri nuzzled up against her neck. "Better?"

"Yes." She whispered, pulling away and pulling off some of the blanket to look Gael over. Eyes still closed and none the worse for wear, unharmed by the panic. Dolorosa hadn't accidentally hurt her once on earth, but the fear of doing something remained. "Did that din wake you?"

"Nah. You panicking did. Is it early enough for you to leave?" She asked. Rolling over the Jade checked the clock that lay beside the bed, hidden from view.

Two minutes before the cursed alarm was due to go off. She snapped the alarm off to keep it from spooking one or both of them.

"Yes." Dolorosa chittered as she pulled herself from the safe cocoon of blanketing, a hand stopping her before she could fully escape.

"Stay safe." Gael kissed her bare shoulder before withdrawing back to the pile.

"Get up at a reasonable hour if you could? And shower, I don't want you staining."

A small confirmatory grumble came. The most she could hope for at this early hour. With a sigh, the Jade stood and set to preparing for work. A brief shower to rinse away any stains of the prior night and the sheen of panic sweat, emptying the bucket into the drain and cleaning it before stepping out. She dressed herself in the same drab and dusty work clothes she'd worn the day before. After a quick check on the window and a last look to the now snoring bundle, Dolorosa set out.

The apartment building was an entirely different beast in the morning, stepping out many doors were simply open with equally miserable humans and Trolls shuffling about, low garbled conversation filling the hallway. Nothing stopped her on her way out however, aside the punkish loiterers who groggily stepped aside mumbling apologies. For a diurnal race, many humans seemed to have more Trollish dispositions regarding the morning.

Circling past a pair of bickering Bronzes and a bleary man in a stained thawb in the entryway, Dolorosa stepped out of the building. The young but terribly bright day sun already casting light on the busying streets. Traffic foot and vehicular already bursting as the various workers of the city made their way out. Dolorosa would have stepped off immediately, if she hadn't noticed the oldest member of their little escape group sitting on a bench just beside the stairs into the street, flanked on either side by two ancient human women. Vetyan got along best with the wrinkled human elders. "No, no, no it was always like that. Always been disrespectful brats, but now you get to see them! What with the ridiculous fireworks of all things! Been like that since the return and it'll be that way till the sea eats the land!" The one grumbled bitterly.

The other sympathetically patted the teal on her side, tutting. "Don't worry about those hotheads bird. It's nothing to lose sleep over."

"I'm not the one losing sleep over it." The former Ancillae turned as Dolorosa descended, smiling lightly though his hundreds of sweeps obviously weighed on him. He looked as good as could be expected, his woolen stola hiding the worst of an Ancillae's history. Gold piercings and wry look matched the healthy light in his eyes. "Good morn Maryam. I hope the light-show didn't cause you or Avarayri much trouble?"

"Nothing worse than the usual. I suppose I should be thankful the ruffians chose to warn us first."

Vetyan nodded, though his wry look dimmed. "Well, I suppose that's the best we can expect. Safe day Matron."

"And good luck lady. To the both of yous. Now, as I was saying-" Dolorosa left the trio behind, making her way back to the requisitionary.

In the morning, Ashdod struggled to wake up as much as any formerly night dwelling Troll, many passers by stumbling through the streets looking as if they were sleep walking. The food vendors of the evenings were replaced by a morning swarm of mobile booths offering coffee and teas, raking in those without the time to brew such things themselves. Swarms of youths banished to the walkways indicated an off-day in the education systems, forcing the Jade to bypass crowds of human wigglers with the rare Troll wigglers among their number. Stray purr-beasts, stumbling drunks and human religious folk further slowed the Jade. But she'd left with the time to spare for such, something Dolorosa was prepared for. The walk, daylight and fresh morning air woke her up fully.

A fortunate thing, as approached the turning point onto the requisitionary's street, the noise of verbose Troll chittering stopped Dolorosa. Too loud, too early, so much so it set off a once buried alarm. Trolls while not unseen in this neighborhood were uncommon. She couldn't make out what they were saying with all the background noise, but gut instinct stopped her at the turn, paranoia borne during Kadarn's lifetime. But it was not unwelcome, she'd been careful to avoid notice until now. Surviving Gamblignants or Iconoclabductors or any slaving type could be a threat. Dolorosa took a small peak around the corner. 

Rough hewn garb dyed grey and crimson, iron chains bound about the neck. Such was the dress of Kadarn's followers. Seeing the trio of trolls clad in such heretical garb out in the packed street still glared to Dolorosa. Sweeps spent in hiding and on the run almost overruling the present, the desire to tell those incomprehensibly foolish Trolls they were going to get themselves culled. On Earth for the most part, followers of Kadarn were free from institutional reprisal. Unlike any Imperial local were the mere imposition of sympathy was enough to be culled. The barren openness of it was something she had not acclimatized to. And perhaps Dolorosa never would grow used to it. She'd seen them a few times in passing, always keeping herself as far from them as she could. Everyone one of them was pale grey, youths barely out of wriggling. Distant enough Dolorosa did not think they would know of her, but she still did not wish to chance that. 

Looking at this particular trio centered around a collections pot on the sidewalk with a basket of pamphlets behind, it seemed like a poorly placed charity operation, offering snippets of the writings. Dolorosa waited a moment, pulling back and listening on. An ill malaise keeping her still. Why here?

Her patience and concern were recompensed after a long tense lull, the noise of the street diminishing to catch words.

"Are you sure the rumors said it was this requisitionary? These things are all over the city." A soft-spoken man asked.

"Its a stratocratic country, it's to be expected. Not bad crisps they dispense though." Another hissed, a woman with a heavy colonial tint in his voice. "I am sure its this one though. I checked and I double checked with Alamut. The words been pretty consistent for a while now. Right horns, right size. These aren't just rumors."

The third, another woman. "If it isn't nonsense then... What do we do?"

A feeling of dread ran through Dolorosa as the man replied. "I don't know. Probably send a message to the top. Now that we're out in the open it's not that hard to find planet leadership contacts. Our Lady will be interested no doubt."

Dread, and an ache deep in the gut. There could be only one person they could be speaking of. Libaax. The reverence in the word... Bad Blood. The mere thought of the Olive made Dolorosa want to leave, to think of anything but her. She took a step away, eager to be off. But before she could vanish, the colonial woman hissed something that made the blood in her heart freeze.

"Our Lady is on Earth. That should be easy enough."

"What?" The man chittered incredulously.

A laugh. "Yea, overheard it from Laidar. Don't know how or why, but she ended up here. She was at Reykjavík, even got us some concessions in the peace when she helped moderate some human land disputes. Not that the skull-humpers out east care about that." Prior apprehension did not restrain Dolorosa as she moved as close to the corner as she dared. "Want to hear something crazyier?"

"Oh come on you can't say something like that and expect us not ask." 

"The Psiioniic was with her. He's still here on surface! Word is he was entrapped on an Imperial ship, and our Lady personally busted him out herself." Dolorosa forced herself to breath as much as she forced her hands behind her back. Jiixan. What had become of him. Alive. Alive if this wasn't fable.

"Think that's true?"

Another laugh.

"Honestly? Seems like beast-shit. At least, taken as a whole. But little parts? I believe they're here, and that some weird shit's happened. Part of why I joined you idjits out for this." A low cackle. "Crazy stuff all over these nights, need to find out how much is just trolls bashing their fangs and what's real."

"Man, that could make our job way easier!" A chink of coins. "Oh, thank you! Void find you well!"

The conversation shifted to idle chatter, of crisps and alien things. Dolorosa forced herself away, through the back already roughly planning ahead. Couldn't take the direct walkway, had to go around. But of course that was a temporary solution to a much greater problem she couldn't even comprehend. Perhaps didn't want to. Heartache and headache at even the imposition she would see them.

But the thoughts still skittered past, like alien rodents skirting out of sight. What had happened to them, how they'd survived, how exactly she could explain being slaughtered and made into a slave. Of course it was wonderful that they'd made it, that they'd escaped to the safety of this world. That Kadarn's followers were not put to the sword. But-

The back alley door to the Kanafani Requisition's shop spared her any further thoughts. Unlocking the door and stepping inside, she almost ran into the janitor. Mordicht was an older human man with wrinkled hide and grey hair. Greeting her with a terse nod he returned to his mopping, he was treated with the same courtesy and Dolorosa made her way past into the back room. The entire space was a mess of inventory, boxes and shelves disheveled at the best of times. Humans while they had great stamina lacked Troll strength and height, Dolorosa could manage this while a trio of humans with with ladders and a forklift would struggle to do the same.

It was not a bad day in the back, the usual mounds and boxes of half emptied surplus and converted civilian goods were restored to their proper order. A slow forceful process. One that easily consumed stray thoughts and focus. One that also left her ignorant to the small presence hiding up on top of one the shelves. Only half aware of it as it scuttled down the side of the shelf, until the small creature pounced upon her leg.

"Greet' Dol'!" Mona squeeped, startling the Jade more than the sudden presence wrapped upon her knee. Looking down she seemed like somewhat less of a mess than usual, her guardians having tied her hair back. She glowed like a teal light-bulb as her former rambunctiousness faded. "Dol'?"

It would be very difficult to stay miserable around the tiny Gold. "Hello Mona. I see you are doing well." When Dolorosa smiled, Mona did the same kneading into the skirt until she picked the girl up and placed the Gold on her shoulders. Lower blood colours, Olives and Yellows in particular tended to feel safe in such a position. Mona was an ideal passenger, happily purring away content to sit upon her shoulders as Dolorosa finished her rounds. Her mood improved by the small glowing bundle purring into her ear. When her set duties were finished, Dolorosa made her way to the front of the Requisitionary.

The front of the shop was divided at the counter and the iron bars that guarded the clerks. Behind the guarded shelves housed the expensive and precious goods, beyond were shelves of inexpensive goods that were insubstantial. Petty foodstuffs, small tools, toiletries and the like. Nothing that would be worth the struggle to catch a larcener over. Sitting behind the counter were the Kanafani siblings, Hussein sitting on a pilfered cushioned chair, beside him his odd rifling crutch and the very real firearm hung leaning up against the wall. Beside Layla looking even more agitated than usual. So much so she didn't even notice Dolorosa's arrival until Hussein waved. "Morning Maryam."

Layla turned with a noise exasperation. "God is good. Listen Maryam I need you to man the front, I need to go into the back we've another shipment of tech coming in today and I need to-" A nod stopped the tirade explanation before it could begin. "Thank you." Then she was off, pealing past and disappearing into the back with a slam of the door.

Mona's purring stopped, Dolorosa sighed. "I'll assume it's already been one of 'those' days?"

"Yup. About right."

The morning rolled out past the noon and into the afternoon as the deluge of customers rolled past, the requisitions shop so filled it passed with haste brought by business. The situation in the Front was an odd one. The civilian economies of earth had been almost obliterated during the war, many organizations that would trade simply vanishing or fragmenting into a million pieces as squatters and opportunists occupied the remnants. The amalgamated behemoth that was the united army had stepped in to fill the empty space. With so many under the UFA officially or in supporting roles, the former military requisition system had turned into something of a functional economy, the Requisition itself the only shared currency of the territories that composed the 'United' Front, to the point some expected it to be adopted as an official currency at some point. 

It reminded Dolorosa of the old Naval systems of the Empire, but infinity less labyrinthine. The customers kept them busy, Layla flitting in and out at random, leaving Dolorosa to handle the bulk of the work. Hussein helped where he could, and Mona would occasionally climb a particularly tall shelf for the Jade but it was minimal. The rush finally petered out as the light outside shifted to a low orange, distant behind the barred front window.

She didn't even notice the stillness until Hussein roused himself, crutch under his arm as he rose.

"Never ceases to amaze me how much penicillin and toner cartridges pass through here." He grunted as he stretched over to the barred door on the side of the counter, pushing through past all the way to the front door. He forcibly pushed it open and after locking it in place before he hobbled back. A faint breeze fill the unairconditioned store, the rolling noise of the street following. Mona finally moved, a yowl yawn coming as she shifted slightly at the younger Kanafani's approach. Sayrii leaned over when Hussein was close, allowing Mona to hop off onto her adopted guardian's shoulders. Already happily trilling. "There we are my girl."

"Thank." She purred, head half buried in Hussein's mane. The human smiled as he leaned up on the counter beside Sayrii.

He looked about, the only customer they had was a grim woman looking over some magazines. Around to the door that led to the back. Satisfied with the relative privacy he finally spoke up. "You look kind of out of it Maryam. If you don't mind me saying."

"I suppose that could be said."

"Well? Is it endemic? Or problems with the woman in your life?"

'No, it is simply the fact my entire life could fall apart at a moment's notice. To say nothing of the joys of parasitism and inability to find anyone who could supply functional body parts.' That was a little much though. Dolorosa clicked to herself. "In part." Before she could even put things into carefully chosen words, an odd smug look on the man paused her. Faintly she remembered all the issues humans had with inverts.

Hussein snorted but straightened himself. "Don't worry, I don't much care about the fact she's a she. It's obvious you care a lot about her if you're willing to brave the bureaucrats on her behalf." He waved off, both turning as the sole remaining customer turned and walked out, leaving them alone. "So, what's the issue?"

The abatement did away with one concern, but the others remained. "I haven't an idea of what we're to do ourselves now. I don't want to throw away another lunar cycle trying to get her on that accursed list you're on. If I succeed we're waiting a full solar rotation at least for just an arm, and if it isn't viable- I'll have just wasted another month for us." Dolorosa failed to keep the creak of annoyance out of her voice. "With my condition I'm worried about what will happen if we need to leave. Worse comes to worse we'll need to leave regardless of me finding something."

He nodded slowly. Not prodding for a time on the petty details. "Both eyes and an arm right? That's raw. Does she get out much?"

"No, she's rather incessant on not troubling anyone. She has a cane and a key, but..."

"It's easy to just remain dormant when moving is difficult. Yes." Hussein eased up a little, reflexively looking to the back door again. Still nothing, satisfying him as he continued. "Honestly, I can't give you much in the way of advice. Yours is a unique situation, I've never been a slave and I've usually been the one being looked after honestly. If I didn't have Layla and Mona I'd probably be out on the street by now. My sister was always the driven one and... Mona is..."

He struggled to find a word for his affection. Such a care Dolorosa was intimately familiar with. "A reason to keep the self able, so they might see their ward happy as long as they can?"

Hussein nodded over the admittedly esoteric description until his ward chirped questioningly. Prompting him to raise a hand and scratch Mona behind the ear, drawing a long purr from the Gold. "Back when we were fighting I made a lot mistakes I wish I could correct. But I would never change saving her. Rushing out of the little hole in the rubble to get her was the stupidest thing I've ever done. But if I hadn't some bastard would have shot her or a purple would have stomped her." Dimmed clicking, Mona tightened her her hold on her Guardian as a small shudder ran through him. "I guess I mean to say is you know what is right for you, with whatever happens with your lady. Might sting us for you to leave, but we can find a replacement. Just give us a warning and do what you have to do, yes?"

"Of course." He sounded earnest, and as long as Dolorosa had known him he'd tried to be just that. She'd known a few trolls like him, and perhaps he would have been a decent Patron in another life. Silly as the thought of Hussein grub wrangling was it managed to make her smirk. "I don't think we have a course yet, but when we do I'll inform you first. And thank you."

"That's the most I can ask for. For now I'll talk to Layla about... Something. Maybe you could bring your lady with you if it worked out. Help her get some fresh air, I could use someone to talk to. I imagine she has some stories to tell." He brushed away the prior severity with the tone of glibness humans oft used to hide such things. Passing through many languages tied to a common thread of aloofness. He moved to turn away, half opening the bar door to the front of the store again.

"Really?" The cold word paralyzed Hussein. Dolorosa looked back to Layla, noting her eyes tinted with red to the point she could almost pass for a sickly highblood. A sign of stress rather than aggression, though the two tended to pair together.

"Layla it wouldn't be like-" Hussein's voice cracked and failed him at his sisters approach. 

"It would not be like 'what' brother?" The obvious venom in Layla's voice silenced Mona and moved Dolorosa, putting herself partway between the human siblings. Hussein's normally relaxed disposition was thoroughly cracked, to the point he stuttered.

"Eh- Well it- it'd- it'd be-" The attempt was abandoned. He looked to the floor, his sister was still glaring at him with what looked to be a not entirely sane look. Dolorosa did not move as Layla stopped, glaring half through the Jade.

"Has everything been set to where it needs to be?" Dolorosa kept her tone ashen. Humans had no parallels to black romance, or at least no healthy parallels. But old instincts kept her between the two.

Layla looked up with a glare, though it had already started to melt.

"Yes. It has. I'll assume there's been no issues up here?"

"Nothing we could not handle." No one moved. Hussein still stiffly stuck at the door and his sister still glaring what felt like spades at him. "If I may ask how much of that you heard?"

"Enough." Dolorosa's employer hissed. But after a moment when it became clear the Jade wasn't moving she relented, more exhaustion reaching her frame. "Look. I just want to have a chat with my dear beloved brother before he implements any of his schemes. This is nothing to do with anything of yours and more of his. Ours rather." She took a cautious step forward.

"Very well." The Jade withdrew, letting the siblings close in.

This was both a good and a very poor decision. It was apparent that in her current state, miss Kanafani was tinging black but eased away from it. Hugging her brother when she was close enough and grunting an apology.

However no one had noticed a pair of individuals enter the Requisition shop, approaching quietly until they were a few steps away. A human and a Rustblood troll. Layla stood back, looked over to the newcomers and then tried her very hardest to drive her fist into the human stranger's skull.

Whoever said humans were incapable of Kismesissitude had lied through their fangs to Dolorosa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next; **- > Layla; Beat him to fucking death.**
> 
> **- > ???; Wonder if some troll should beat you to death with sock full of shit.**
> 
> **- > Singh; Consider shooting the sharp toothed stranger.**


	5. New Troubles & Old Pains

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-rRp[R- [♋︎!] -XCT-

( ♋︎ ) "RAT-FACED COWARD SON OF A **BITCH-** "

Hussein Kanafani was very glad he'd convinced his sister to pick up Miss Maryam as help, for what was probably the twentieth time since hiring. Putting like that did not really have much severity though, because Hussein had no basis for just how glad he was to have a person who could stop Layla from murdering someone. 

Specifically someone who Hussein had figured he'd never see again. 

Someone he didn't have the heart to think on in one way or another.

That someone being a one Saul Steiner. 

Hussein hadn't even seen him come in as he'd been much more worried about Layla having a meltdown. A byproduct of stress and an average of three hours of sleep a night. He'd thought he'd been in the clear, succeading in putting off what was probably an unpleasant conversation for later. Then Hussein had turned and Saul had just sort of been a few steps away, staring awkwardly. In some ways he looked looked about the same as Hussein remembered, physically at least. His palish brown hair had been completely shaved off, Saul's eyes looking so dim they seemed more grey than brown now. There wasn't any anger in them anymore, he just looked uncomfortable and perhaps a little anxious.

He'd had recognized Saul immediately but Hussein hadn't had a second to take him in when Layla went in for a punch. 

Which, really he should have expected. Considering how things had gone.

Hussein backpedaled into a wall the instant his sister went in for the blow, free hand coming up to protect Mona. Of course, the blow never landed, Saul jerked back wide eyed hard enough he tipped, Layla finding herself picked by the scruff of her collar and yanked back, whiffing the punch and howling like she was possessed. Miss Maryam had been there in an instant, literally hauling Layla up and off in the nick of time. Holding her aloft as she struggled. Saul trying to pull away from the punch that should have hit him fell on his ass. 

"I TOLD YOU IF YOU EVER CAME BACK I WOULD SHOOT YOU MYSELF STEINER!" Mona clamped up around Hussein's head, diminishing as she buried her head into his hair. Couldn't blame his child at all for that, a primal want hit him to limp the fuck out of here, half moving his foot. To get away from the nuclear mess that was his sister. Hussein forced it from himself, couldn't walk away from this.

Layla twisted, trying vainly to get herself out of Maryam's grip or to yank of the shirt and coat she was being held by. But it was about as effective as a kitten trying to escape it's mother's jaw. "Miss Kanafani please stop that." Maryam sounded distinctly unruffled.

"LET GO OF ME THIS **INSTANT** MARYAM!"

The shriek only made the Jade shake her head. "That would be terribly irresponsible of me."

A ways away, Saul was helped to his feet by the Rust Troll he'd come in with, the alien staring up at Maryam as Saul finally got to his feet and brushed himself off. He didn't look like Saul, he was half bowed and still looking at the floor. The old Saul would get worked up the little things and would happily punch back, good grief he'd spent three quarters of their deployment calling Hussein 'thief' because of a misplaced pudding cup. Saying nothing of what had happened last.

"Eh. Yeah I- figured it would be like this." Saul croaked to himself.

The words caught Layla, well enough she stopped struggling to focus her ire on Saul. "YOSSI AND SAYID DIED BECAUSE YOU TURNED TAIL AND RAN LIKE THE DOG YOU ARE! MY BROTHER WAS MAULED AND YOU'VE GOT THE FUCKING AUDACITY TO COME BACK HERE INTO MY PLACE!?"

Silence.

After a moment Maryam let her feet touch the ground. Her hand still wrapped around Layla's collar as a cautionary measure.

Saul looked firmly at his feet now, Mona was woefully still on Hussein's shoulders.

About as still as Hussein himself. In the absence of noise, it felt like he'd swallowed coffee grounds the way everything froze up, throat clamping shut. He didn't like thinking on it but-

It was true. Saul had been covering the rear of the squad during the assault. Saul had vanished, and no one had noticed the Green eyed terror as it had-

Well. Hussein didn't remember much at that point, only the thing jumping him, on top of him. He hadn't even felt the claw blades ripping into him. He'd been more concerned with the abrupt loss of balance, the weight on his back and glass covered asphalt suddenly rising up to meet him.

Not that he liked being reminded of it, or the hole in his chest he'd been left with since. Was almost as bad as the eye and on par with the leg.

Saul had arrived after the fact, tripping on-

Fuck.

Hussein forced himself to look up at the things, taking a step forward. Layla's glare going from white hot to ice cold. Furious to absolute disgust as Saul still looked at the floor. Hussein's crutch touching down made him start. He looked up at Hussein's face, but it fell back down, a forced hand reaching into his pocket as he stiffly walked over to Hussein. "I'm not here to be a sanctimonious fuck. Just-" He pulled out a thick envelope, holding it out to Hussein. "Here."

Mona chittered quietly as he evened himself out, and took the envelope. The moment it was in his hand Hussein knew what was stuffed inside. "That's a lot of Req to give away." He looked inside, internally whistling as he noted heavy Req 'bills,' the actual conversions were a little fuzzy but he was holding a couple thousand Dinar. He looked up, feeling distinctly out of the loop. "Where did you even get this?" 

Saul had already stepped back, looking back at Hussein's feet. "The UFDB are paying out the ass for deconstruction of alien ships, I'm not even in the top quarter of employment and I'm getting that for a bonus. You two deserve it more than me."

"What's the catch?" Layla growled with enough venom to kill an Indigo-Troll. 

A half-step retreat stopped before it could even begin. For a second he didn't say anything, almost looking over to where Layla was. But he couldn't. Back to Hussein's boots. "There isn't one. I've gotten two of those, first one went up to Ben-Zvi's folks." He tried to say something. "I-" But it never came. He tried for a few seconds. Struggling to say something that felt weirdly _off_. A mote carried throughout this entire terribly awkward situation. Something Hussein couldn't figure out. "Just- take the money and throw me from your minds." 

He turned to leave, stiffly making his way out. The Troll that had accompanied him finally broke the stare focused on Maryam beside. Layla still glaring, Maryam focused elsewhere, maybe trying to ignore the Rust, maybe something else. It hit Hussein just what was so _off_ as Steiner reached the door out. "Ey Saul?" It kind of stung to see him wince. But-

Hussein remained to be the sort of man who couldn't leave well enough alone. 

"When'd you learn Arab?" In his whole service, back during the war Saul had barely been able to understand Arab at the start, only then attaining a basic understanding. But now he was just- speaking it. Not even with a translator, there wasn't any buzz or Hebrew underneath it. 

Saul just froze in the doorway, the Rust almost stumbling into him. "Needed to. Third of the force out on the ship speaks it exclusively. Hate translators in my ear, Trolls all have them. Best option."

"Well. That's pretty commendable." He tilted, not even half sure of what he was doing as he carefully walked over to the man who he should probably hate as much as Layla did. But at the moment there was just a faint sense of- Pity? Maybe it was, maybe it was something else. Whatever it was just didn't sit right at the sight the awkward man trying his damnedest to escape the situation he'd voluntarily walked into. The Rust popped out ahead of Saul, leaving him standing at the door turning and looking up. Past Hussein to the little Troll on his shoulders. 

The sheen of Teal light caught him in the face, his daughter's bright gaze set down at him. "Uh. Hi." He croaked.

A wordless confirmatory chirp. The glow died as Hussein felt Mona bury her head into his hair again. 

She made it possible to smile. "Steiner? Listen. I don't hate you, I don't really want to hate you either. I like to think we're beyond that." He put a hand into his pocket, searching through the mess of miscellaneous junk before pulling out a pen and a pad of paper. "If you want to talk sometime, I'd be willing to listen." 

Again Saul tried to say something, a twist of his head might have been an attempted negation. But it barely looked the part. Hussein quickly scribbled down his cell phone number and after a moment's consideration his MateTag. Not like he had anything to lose from offering it, and perhaps it would be the best bet for a man who evidently hadn't dealt with his past. 

He finished, ripping the page off and offering it to Saul. "Maybe you call. Maybe you send a message. Maybe you throw it away or ignore it. But take it, if you could?"

He heard his sister seize up behind him, Hussein adamantly ignoring her. You'd think the page was on fire or electrified the way a grown man attempted to take it. "Alright." He managed as he finally took the page.

"Take care of yourself then Saul." He stepped back.

Saul was gone in an instant. Perhaps he should have expected such. Hussein sighed, pocketing everything he had on him, adjusting his belt and turning back to his sister. "Well. That went well."

"Hussein..." Layla started as Hussein made his way over.

"I've got it. If he calls he calls me, if he doesn't- Well, you don't have to worry about him any more than I."

"Are you sure?"

He nodded. "Much as I can be."

All the rage was gone, the hate too. Layla just looked sunken in and tired as she shook her head. Thinking to herself as she stepped back. She looked back to Maryam who only then relinquished her collar. "Was that other grunt a problem Maryam?"

"Possibly." The Jade clicked tersely.

"As your employer, I don't like 'possibly.'" 

"Nor would I expect you too. Miss Kanafani I don't believe it's an immediate issue but..."

"It will become one eventually." Layla filled in the empty space.

"That is my concern."

"Well, if you'd prefer I could keep you to the back on most circumstances from this point out?"

"If you can spare it."

"Of course I can." 

The day crept on after that. Going slowly leaving Hussein at the counter, alone with Mona who adamantly refused to leave him alone. Not that he minded in the least, for it was better than being alone, stuck beside his thoughts and memories.

He'd lost much in life, family, friends, his existence had been wiped when the war had begun and he'd been dragged into the PDF and the horribly disjointed alliance. Surrounded by people who wouldn't care if he lived or died, some more than fine with the latter. Just- Layla there. Probably the only person that could really kill him if she was gone, Hussein was inept in more day to day things and lacked drive. She'd gotten them out of the sticks, she'd been the one to plan and handle everything, Hussein was just an extra set of hands at times. Seemed like it would stay that way as the world had gone insane. But...

Then there'd been Yossi. This weird guy who stonewalled every issue he came across. Who'd just been- Nice. Nice to be around, nice to talk to, nice to listen to. Even though the world was on fire. Yossi Ben-Zvi had been the solid tether in an incomprehensible storm. Hussein hadn't even realized just how much he'd grown to rely on him until Mona had come crashing into their lives.

If there was one thing he could recall clearly, it was an oddly quiet night. Hussein and the Mute Sayid on watch, staring out into the ruble of the old city. Distant rumbles, distant flashes. But far enough away there was a peace. He'd gone off to switch off with Saul at midnight, and he'd caught a sight Hussein would never forget. Yossi had fallen asleep with Mona on his lap, leaned back against the wall. Precious. That was when Hussein had consciously fallen for him. Not that he'd ever let anyone know that.

Hussein had contented himself to whatever would come, Good willing he could sort through it when there was time. 

Well, the past was in the past. It would hardly be fitting to dwell on it, Yossi wouldn't have done that.

In some regards he succeeded, even waiting on a grueling long evening to pass memories still flickered like a dying flame. What might have been dwindling down in passing thoughts. But when it finally came time to close shop, he did not feel any worse than he normally did. 

He saw Miss Maryam off, with a wave the towering woman vanished with a speed that was a little off-putting in one so large. Not that he could blame her. From the sound of it she had enough problems on her plate.

What little remaining of the night winding away until he finally locked the front up, turned off the lights, closed the counter door and locked it all the same. Making his way slowly out to the back, Mona beside him as he stepped out into the back alley. Layla came out a moment later, looking only slightly better than a shambling ghoul. Turning about and locking the door behind them, pausing after the fact. 

"When were you going to talk to me about moping about like father and his merry band of vagrants?"

Well, couldn't put it off forever. Hussein didn't remember much about their father, and the way Layla acted he was glad he'd forgotten. A thug and most of all a coward. The kind of person who threatened and made sure he had control of everything he could. Resulting in him having a rather unpleasant entourage. "Layla it wouldn't be like father."

"What you described was awful similar to what he-"

"It isn't. It's just- It's just living. I want to just- relax. out front with Rashid. Maybe his cousins and Shimon. Watch the street. Talk. I can't go far and I don't want to be away if something happens but- We've done nothing but survive since we were relieved!" 

She scoffed. "So you're just going to end up squatting on the walkway with a dozen people."

"You know I wouldn't do anything like that."

Her eyes were still bloodshot, even in the dim alley he could see that. Her voice grew hoarse. "I don't want trouble coming to our doorstep we could avoid Hussein."

"I would never let that happen and you know it." 

"You wouldn't, but there are plenty of people who would happily bring it. All it takes is one-"

"We're living in a different world sister."

Her laugh was acrid. "And all it took was new wave of parasite colonizers." Even before Layla finished speaking she turned, regretting the words. Back before everything, she'd had a lot of words for their 'neighbors'. None of them kind. Of course, a Long Summer and certain people had changed her. One of whom chirped in confusion, making Layla wince. "Peh, forgive me Mona. That's... Ugly." The Gold kept clicking, hugging Layla's side. 

"Not a mean drop of blood in her." Hussein said quietly as his sister ran a hand through Mona's hair.

"No." She sighed, looking back up to him. "If the damn gendarmerie show, you keep Rashid and that mouthy idiot Shimon from saying or doing anything stupid. If you tell Maryam her partner's allowed here you damn well make sure nothing happens to that woman."

"Swear on my soul nothing would happen to her anymore than something could happen to Mona." 

"Peh. Alright."

"Promise me you'll take some time off for yourself when we get more people on. You're going to work yourself to death."

"I said alright brother."

( ♋︎ )

##### Some time prior, but not by much...

Saul made his way off down to the docks with one of his organizers at his heel. Trying to keep himself looking confident. At least a little pissed off. Not that he was able too shore up either of those things right now. 

God, his Grandmother would have killed him if she'd made it to see him hand off charity. You left that shit at the donation box when no one was around or you were a terrible Jew in her books. Had to face them though, he'd gotten to fuck off every other time and- He'd completely failed in that regard, everything he'd wanted to say had evaporated like water in summer heat and he'd ducked out at the first chance he could. 

Approaching the veritable clusterfuck of tugs, temporary plastic docking and filthy workers off break stained in god-awful alien bio-mechanical fluids, he could already see where he was supposed to be. The small dingy tug half packed with the various maligned employees willing to take apart the insides of the crashed alien life-ship sitting dead in the sea. He could see it out on the water, the ugly upper half of the hull poking out like a dead leviathan. 

Stiff upper lip, or something like that. Didn't feel it but he could hope he looked it. "Hey, Chief! We were wondering when you and Tebual were going to show up! We got to get to the rig stat!" One of the xeno workers shouted at their approach, all plastic galoshes and gnashing dulled teeth. Saul had never really gotten used to them. Or anything really. The strange new world that had greeted Saul at the armistice with a slap on the ass. Stumbling into a job because he apparently looked authoritative or something. 

"Zul get us moving!" He grunted as he stepped onto the ship, what little space available being cleared as he made his way to the front, men and aliens jumping and undoing the tackle that kept them docked. The black skinned driver of the craft jumping at the command and making his way to the front. Saul following him. There was little to the ship besides the packed back, a small room at the front to hide the driver of the tug from the elements. It was only slightly less packed than the back, upper labor and admin folk had some breathing room. Not much though, still stunk of Bio-synth lubrication and human sweat. 

As the tug's engine rumbled underneath them, the ship pulling off, Saul reached the front window. Watching the docks packed with bodies. It was one of several, as the operation to dismember and cannibalize the xenos ship kept growing. 

"Uh." A voice he didn't really recognize made him turn, Saul found the troll who'd followed him off had followed him to the front. Tebual was an organizer, one of the people who acted as an intermediary in the scavenge crew. A quiet troll most of the time, Saul had only brought him in the event that Layla actually shot him. So someone would be able to inform their overseers that they needed to replace him. "You alright Mister Steiner? That lady almost hoofed you."

"Can't really blame her." Saul grunted, almost letting a voice crack through. Nope, swallow or every fucking root in his command chain would hear him snap like a twig. 

The small horned Troll rubbed the back of his neck. "Stuff that happened during the landing?"

"Before it. During."

"Caste stuff?"

"Something like that Tebual."

The ding of the ship's Comm system saved him from any other questions. Letting him slide over and grab the ancient radio analogue. Immediately regretting it as the half-deaf overseer shouted in his ear. "Director Steiner! You're set to LC2, full pull! We've got a lot to move out. Cleaning crews are moving to all-hours operation and they're increasing the crews by another eight thousand. We need to be prepared for that next week."

Oh god. "Anything else Arafat?" Saul carefully pulled the receiver away from his head.

"Come to command when you get in, we need to look over your hours when you get a chance. Council out." The line clicked. 

Rest in piss sleep schedule.

"Fuck." He growled to himself, depositing the receiver back to where it belonged. 

The driver nodded, no way he couldn't overhear the news. Everyone in a ten foot radius had probably heard Arafat.

All hours operations, probably reduce the decade long operation to maybe five or six years. If they were lucky. Muttering already passing through the ranks behind him. Aliens and Arabs grumbling to themselves about the possibility of night shifts. The common thread that united everyone here was the shit being sloshed down upon them. 

Well. It worked. 

No one bothered Saul for once, no one fucking pressing for weird bullshit requests or stupid questions. Leaving him alone glaring off at the minutely growing black ball that they were now slowly tilting towards. 

Letting him slowly come to the conclusion he'd prefer to have the Kanafani woman possibly kill him then to ever talk to her brother. Breaking rank had gotten him mauled, he should have spit in Saul's eyes for that. Instead that intolerable Arab weenie had given him a fucking MateTag. Never mind the fucking logistics of that man having a fucking weird god damn chat program account that he also had, no he just- Ooooh there was no way it was real. He had to have given him some bullshit pass-off. 

A weirdly fevered clicking of keys drew Saul from the unnerving possibility someone could possibly willingly want to talk to him. Looking over he noticed Tebual clicking with his clawtips at a small phone. Which- was odd. This was the first time Saul had ever seen him use a phone, almost feverishly beside. Then again, that wasn't the oddest thing. 

He'd been pretty damn fascinated by that Troll who'd stopped Layla from clocking him. 

"Mind if I ask what you saw in that green-blood?"

Tebual perked up, half jumping when he realized it was Saul who was speaking to him. "Oh! Of course that was- well I think that was someone really important! Someone a lot of us thought was dead!" He finished his message and tucked his phone into his pocket. "I mean- apparently a lot of stuff we missed but we didn't get all the info so I'm just going to get word out to the rest of my... I guess in you're terms it would be my... Kahal? But- sorry I just needed to tell everyone, I'd been hearing rumors for a while."

Man. Aliens were fucking weird. Saul hadn't even known they'd had religions. They seeming to be like jaded post-USSR denizens clocked up a hundred degrees in terms of practicality. 

Saul shoved the logistics of that into the mental closet with everything else. "Just don't let it distract you. When you get off the boat your mind goes to work. I don't want someone getting hurt because they were thinking about something that can be done at the end of their shift."

"Oh, yes'sir!"

Tebual chirped up, standing and walking out to the crowded back. 

_'Jeeze Mister Steiner why don't you listen to your own fucking advice?'_

_'Because, fuck you, made up voice in my head.'_

Without a word he turned back to the window, the ominous black hull getting bigger and bigger. Until it would swallow the entire front view. Then all the light as it blocked out the fucking sun. Right now though that had just turned into another facet of his life. 

Should never trouble them again.

Oh. To _Hell_ with it.

Saul hastily withdrew his own phone, opening his BadgerMate program and pulling out the page. Putting down the intolerable weenie's MateTag before he fucking threw himself into the Mediterranean.

( ☬ )

Banda Singh still did not need his eyes to tie his Turban. Sitting on the couch he'd slept upon and rebinding it, the process was natural, even with this one as complicated as it was. New as it was.

In some ways he still felt undeserving of it. Gone was the black and camouflage, the smaller, tighter binding of a modern soldier. Replaced by this gift. The Nihang Turban. Only its status as a gift allowed him to bear it.

When Singh had resigned from his post, deprived of the constant stress and demands of office he'd finally been allowed to take in the magnitudes of the storm he'd weathered. Of what had come of the Earth and beyond it. Almost three billion humans dead, but since the end of the war ten times that number of Trolls had perished as the empire ate itself. Entire planets covered in cities simply glassed, to deprive one would be tyrant the world by another. A common occurrence apparently. Such numbers glossed past him. They weren't empty like those empty cities back home. 

But it was not the end of the world. Far from it. There was... Hope. There were heroes in the world again.

Only then when Singh had been allowed time to breath in the ashes had he really understand the weight of his reputation. Why exactly every 'Troll' he ran across looked at him like he was brandishing a sword stained in purple. Aewroken, Lion from the North and breaker of Highbloods. His 'story' had apparently spread far, both on earth and to the stars if those he'd spoken to were truthful. Another dreadful xenos warrior those broken turncoats blamed for their defeat. But on earth? Apparently in Canada and the old country fanciful embellishments of his actions had grown popular. One of many distinguished soldiers of a halved nation and one foremost estranged son of a homeland he didn't much remember at all.

Commendations, questions, requests, what felt like a tsunami of people attempting to find him had greeted Banda Singh when he'd been left to his own devices. None of it felt earned, like it was meant for some other person. Singh felt like much of the struggle was a half remembered dream. Some things were real though, or at least as real as they could be. Those hidden nights amidst the convoy, beside a barrel of burning lumber listening to those struggling to continue, bickering, whinging, crying and occasionally laughing. The first alien he'd shot, dead on the floor, another round put into its skull for good measure. The dead look in Ali's eyes. Sarah bleeding from the head. Dark red tears on grey. That monster, that veritable demon looming over Darkleer with its shuddering eyes. The little woman vanishing off into grey ruins, armed to the teeth with old weapons. Eager.

Oh, the irony of it. 

Singh had realized quickly he could not handle the sheer flow that found him and after finding a motorcycle he'd prepared himself to flee. Where to he did not know at first, not even until he was already on the road, nor did he really care about that. Singh was unneeded now, and he could vanish. For a time, or perhaps forever. In his rush he did not dwell on time ahead as the only thing he could focus on was that escape. Some few things, some commendations were boxed and ignored, kept for the weight carried to others but not to him. But there was one thing he could not ignore, delivered the day before he fled Washington. 

The turban had been sent by a committee of Nihang for his valiance. The war had affected the Sikhs like it had all of Earth's people. The Harmandir Sahib, the Golden Temple had been destroyed so thoroughly that not a single shard of it had been found and again the Khalsa had rallied like it had in those those distant days against another tyrannical empire. The ceremonial status of the Nihang had disintegrated into a brutal soldiery during the war, warriors that would call themselves such willing to fight Trolls with blades to match them, always the last ones holding the line. When the dust settled, some returned to their ceremonial function, while others retained their modernized militancy. Keeping the peace where they could, protecting those unable to protect themselves. One such group had caught word of Singh's exploits and sent him a cordial invitation to their order beside one of their odd turban. A token of respect.

It had a weaving of stolen xenos material wrapped about the interior, firm enough it would not give out if a sword was driven into his head. Enough it would really only crease the fabric and supremely piss off the wearer. It had a regal, eye-drawing look to it, the bright orange was something he would have worn before the war. Now it felt almost gaudy. Beside the iron Khanda and the small weave blade it felt almost like it belonged to someone else, a gristled old uncle who bemoaned the impious children of the current day. Yet, he'd worn this Turban since he'd left the Capital with only what he could carry upon his back. Half aware of what he was doing and where he was going. 

Somehow he'd made it to Colorado, to the location the odd Norwegian he'd fought beside in that last siege. Beside the rigid giant and the goat horned woman he'd only seen broken. Since his resignation this was the first place he'd felt some control again. The past few days made him feel almost real.

So much so it pained him he was going to leave. Beyond it was still dark out. Morning in the barest sense of the word. He had dressed himself, readied his bag, and as he finished the final tie that secured the Khanda, he tried to ignore the growing sense of guilt. 

Banda Singh felt like a trespasser here, an unwanted ghost amidst this odd trio. All of them were bound together in one way or another. Truth be told Singh still did not understand 'quadrants' or the 'pale' relation, but Solheim's attachment to the fair Miss Megido made it apparent there was weight behind the quarter. Even Solheim and Darkleer held a strange respect. Singh was an outsider here, sleeping upon a couch that had been lent in kindness. It felt more uncomfortable than the cement floors of abandoned buildings he'd found himself sleeping on along the way here. 

It was better that he vanish, go off North and see if he could find any of his kinder aunts over in Vancouver. Keep moving, to keep himself from dwelling overlong. Or so he'd found himself thinking.

He ran his hands over the Dastar, feeling the flexible alien metal hidden underneath, the ring to draw the small dagger. The symbol that drew the eyes of every Troll he ran across, kowtowing them. Immaculate as he could make it. Firm enough he could speed along as fast as he wanted without fear something would come off and head butt someone on the dismount. There. All done. 

He sighed to himself in the darkness of the unlit living room. Some lasting guilt keeping him in place. Guilt struggling against guilt. Better to leave now, yet- It would be better to offer parting words. They deserved spoken ones, rather than the note he'd planned on writing. 

Indecision made him want to curse aloud into the darkness. Was it better to be painless, or to be polite?

They were deserving of both. Those Trolls were good company, being perhaps more 'normal' then Solheim. An impressive feet, considering Darkleer was a veritable juggernaut made out of flesh and allegedly Miss Megido heard whispers of the nameless dead. It was poor form to leave any of them without warning. But in the same right even now some part of him felt like an intruder. Unwilling to stay and yet unable to leave. 

The knock startled Singh, his hand immediately falling to his sidearm as he jerked to crouch. Of course there was no pistol waiting to be gripped, nothing but air. He was just an idiot squatting in a dark room. The knocking at the door came again. 

He forced himself up, hand quickly running to the Kirpan hidden inside his belt and the taser in his back pocket. Not that they'd be needed, hopefully. He could scarcely imagine who could be arriving at this god awful hour. Adjusting his leathers with one hand finding the wall, he walked to the front door, thankfully a third knock did not come to disturb his hosts.

Fingers found the door frame, traced over to the handle. Listening. 

The muffled laugh came knowing to his last near noiseless footfall. A telling noise reminiscent of pane glass shattering under a brick at Singh's last step. A xenos noise. Gleeful in a fashion any sane human should worry over, and perhaps a few of those warm blooded xenos beside. Unfortunately for this visitor, Singh's response was fluid. He pushed open the door as his free hand fell to the Kirpan handle.

Sight came with the sickening fluorescent light of the hallway, the brightness making him squint. Singh was greeted by a pair of gaudily bright crimson glasses, above a smile of bright sharp teeth more fitting of a prehistoric raptor than a Troll. She took a step back as he pushed the door all the way open, already Singh could feel that hidden glare looking over him. 

She was his height, diminutive for a Troll though her plain curling horns matched the distance to let her loom at him. Middle aged if the dark grey of her skin said anything, lined with small scars befitting someone experienced in some violence. Cropped hair gave her a regal look, about the longest someone in the military could get away with. In her hands she leaned upon an ivory white cane carved from some alien bone, its head carved into a beastly head with gleaming red stone eyes. The whole of her was striking and purposefully eye catching. She wore a shock white trench-coat with a vibrant crimson sash tied about her waist, a pair of similarly gaudy red boots claddened her feet up to her knees. 

Yet Singh saw the danger in her through it in an instant, under the coat a retrofitted Kevlar vest covered her chest, a chain necklace adorned by a plain grey sign of cancer above. Leggings plain grey with the familiar outlines of hidden weapons. At least one pistol. A messenger bag on her back of faded grey almost hidden by the glaring draws of red.

The danger was impossible to ignore, and for a moment there was quiet as both parties took each other in. Singh's hand eased away from his blade, the Troll woman's clawed fingers relaxing around her cane. Though her grin did not diminish. If anything it widened, to the point Singh wondered if she was one of the Trolls that could unhinge her jaw like a snake. 

It hit him that she was waiting on him. Forcing himself he cleared his throat. "May I help you...?"

"Pyrope." A slow hand came up to adjust her glasses. "Though you might know me by my other name. Red-Glare."

"I..."

The name was familiar, though he could not place it immediately. Only memory of those photographed at Reykjavík made the connection, his hand jumped back to his hip. "I could have sworn you were over in California Miss Pyrope." 

"The same could be said of one Mister Banda Singh who allegedly was last seen in Louisiana. People wander all about these days. May I come in?" Her hands tensed around the cane head again, a clawed finger raising and pointing inside. 

His name forced his hand away from his blade again, prompting the former High Legislacerator to loosen her grip on the cane that was likely not simply a cane. Pyrope, wild card as far as military affairs were concerned. Before and after Reykjavík the Legislacerators, the xenos judiciary and executioners had proven to be at best perfidious. It was admittedly clever for a secret police to avoid the notion of extrajudicial killings by simply making them judges, but the notion still disgusted him. This woman was dangerous in the extreme, and Darkleers old history came to mind. 

"That depends upon your business." He kept his voice cool, eyeing Pyrope for anything to signal an attack, or a tell.

Unfortunately she had one hell of a poker face. "Well, I'll be blunt then. I've been after the one who stands before me for a few nights now. For reasons that I'll reveal when I damn well please. You need not worry for the safety of your hosts. Now, may we do this cleanly or...?" Words were not needed for a threat, absence more than enough. Singh took a step back, flicking on the hallway light before standing aside. The Teal snickered as she stepped in. "An excellent choice."

Past the threshold his hand caught her shoulder. Freezing the both of them, grips back to their weapons. 

"Be quiet please, I do not wish to disturb my hosts." The words carried no threatening tones, at least to a humans ears. Singh knew this was a poor position to be in. If she was lying she could likely overpower him to say nothing of the cane. But he could at least play her game on his terms.

Another pause, winding away slower than, the former Legislacerator easing from hard stone to an almost mechanical motion, allowing the contact but certainly able to throw it off if need be. "But of course." Singh did not question the reprieve as it clicked she was after him. He did not question it, rather, he did not focus to question it. His immediate attention went to containment, guiding Pyrope through the dark room that had been his bedding into the kitchen. All pealing greenish paint, dirty tiles and a table with metal stools that looked as if it had been used for cover during the war. When they were inside, he released his grip on Pyrope and closed the door behind them.

Pryope clicked to herself as she stepped in, head tilting as she walked about in a circle. "Curious. Is it really Darkleer living here?"

Give her what she asks and not a word more. "That is Zahhak's given name." Singh said as he stepped over to the table, pulling out the seat opposite to Pyrope who laughed to herself. 

"Him, an alien and a peasant girl. Ironic." She chittered as Singh sat down, turning and pulling out stool closest to her. She leaned her cane up upon the table edge and pulled her bag off. Rustling through the contents before pulling out a black binder, a number of files bound up in semi-transparent plastic holders and a small human laptop that would have been out of date last decade. Dropping the now empty bag to the ground she opened the computer and pushed the files and the binder to the side. 

Pyrope's smile did not fade, instead it tempered. Away from a gleeful sadistic looking thing to a harder eagerness. 

Singh waited on her, folding his hands before him on the table. Until the shake, it felt like a low flying plane, hard enough he heard stored glasses shaking and the ground beneath his feet shuddering. Red-Glare shook her head tutting. "Ignore her, she's off to stalk tusk-beasts. Now, Mister Singh. May I ask you a few questions?"

Her? He stowed the worthless distraction, forcing his focus on the much more pressing alien sitting across from him. "I see no reason to refuse at this point." He kept his tone neutral and curt, much as he could whenever he'd dealt with unwanted guests. 

She nodded, clicking at her computer for a moment, looking at something Singh could not see. "You have a rather interesting record Mister Singh. Military service beginning before you should have legally been allowed to serve. You were one of the handful of survivors from Special Task Group Voyageur, and one of the four to survive the siege of the North Highland RA-HQ. Very resilient or very lucky." Her tone warped, and her voice made the hair on the back of Singh's neck stand up, grating in his ears. "Tell me how exactly Darkleer killed the Grand Highblood."

Singh did not move an inch, the part of him that was drilled to a fault overtaking everything else. The memory of the fire lit bunker made his interior shudder, but his exterior remained unmoved by the nightmarish remembrance. "An arrow." Singh croaked. "Straight through the center of the skull."

"That is a brazen lie sir." The Red-Glare hissed like a leaking gas valve. "You see, I talked with one quarter of the survivors, the Mister Teresovsky about the official story. You're not a good liar Mister Singh, not at all."

"I haven't lied to you yet ma'am."

"No, but you did prior when you stole command of the siege. Your guile and skill must be something if they kept you in service and promoted you after lying your way into commanding that admittedly smashing success of a defence. If you were a Troll under me as a Neophyte, Mister Singh, you'd be allowed to cull yourself for that sort of ability."

The hidden glare rested on him with what felt like physical weight. Forcing him to speak gruffly as he ran through plans in the event this turned foul. A kick to the table might pause her, keep the cane from her hand. "Where exactly is this going Pyrope?" Would need to do that, clear the distance as soon as possible and get on top of her. Not that she needed the cane, those claws and teeth were weapons well enough, and Singh wagered this one could throw a nasty punch herself.

Perhaps she was doing the same, her tense form and unmoving head running over how best to gut the human she stared down. Her voice retained a venomous tinge, words carefully calculated running through to English with a sharpness that could sheer skin. "I know very well Zahhak didn't kill Makara. I know that because I already know Zahhak. He's a good little noble grub, he wouldn't have been able to do it unless someone had worn Makara down and given some command. A seadweller specifically. He's a perfect executor, a tool at the end of the day and nothing more." Her smile vanished. "So. Mister Singh. You're going to tell me precisely how you killed Ungorn Makara."

Ungorn Makara? The name of the Grand Highblood. He realized it as he dwelled under the crimson stare. A lethal danger in her lack of motion. Singh cleared his throat as the memories rolled back. "I goaded the Grand Highblood into attacking me, before he could wipe us outright. I'd laid out a trap prior. A makeshift pike. Raised it when he tried to rush me down and he just impaled himself for me. It stopped him, kept him away from me. Enough I could put fifteen nine-by-nineteen bullets into his head along with my knife. Not that that was enough to kill him. He kept going, even after I hit him with enough explosives he should have been reduced to jello. Didn't. Bastard just kept coming. It was Darkleer who landed the killing blow. As I said. Arrow, right through the skull." 

He leaned back in his chair and let out a breath he hadn't noticed he'd been holding. That siege had been just one fight of many, or so he told himself. He did not much care to think back on those fights, particularly that one.

Red-glare's stare broke, as her head lowered. Low enough Singh could make out her close her eyes. She chittered with an eerie slowness. "Yes. There it is. Fits just like I thought it would." She turned away from him.

Discipline pressed him. "Was that what you came here for? To know of the Highblood?"

"I wanted to know Ungorn's fate properly. But it isn't why I came. It just so happens my business was tied to the one who finally used his fury against him. A proper end really. I'd told him. A hundred times he'd doom himself." She snorted, Singh watched as a hand with the faintest unease come up to her head, pulling off her glasses. Her eyes remained closed as she massaged the bridge of her nose, letting out a worn hackle of a laugh. "To think I'd be stopped now by some remnant of a half-hearted pity I never capitalized on." She pulled her glasses back on, turning back to him with a small grin. "Well. What else can you do when you think of the 'ifs'?"

It did not feel like a question that had been asked seeking an answer, yet... 

"You can do little but think on them. 'If' is all that remains when they pass." 

"Such a miserly contemplation." She snickered.

"So. If you didn't come for that, then what did you come here for?"

Her former glib exterior swelled back up. Literally, as her frame pulled itself back up to the former dangerous figure of a would be attacker. "For you to answer a few questions, and then after the result of those questions will either prolong our business or end it. If you would allow me?"

Singh sighed. "Very well."

She turned back to her computer. A clack of claw meeting key coming as she found what she needed. "Is it true you helped organize the current American gendarme and collaborated with the Military Police of your home nation state prior to the war?"

"Correct."

"And is it true you voluntarily resigned with the rest of the Xavier administration's military function when the recent constitutional convention began?"

"Yes."

Her hand went to the closed files. "Are these documents representative and accurate?" She gripped them and slid them across the table into Singh's waiting hands. Undoing the plastic bindings that protected them from the elements, Singh perked up when he noticed that he was holding his own personal information. His service with the CAF, collabooration with the CFMP and transfer through to the American Command. Flipping through he was stopped by a photo pinned to his initial recruitment documents. An awkward younger and bleary eyed Singh staring up at him, cringing he quickly shuffled the registry doc to the bottom of the pile as he looked through everything else.

Nothing seemed out of place, at least as far as the official record was concerned. "So it would appear." He pushed the documents and their former holds aside.

She picked up the binder as he felt the glare return with a worrying eagerness. "Well then, it seems that you may be what I'm looking for. Or rather, you're the kind of person I'm looking for."

She tossed the binder up at him, at Singh's face. Reflex caught the heavy black bound pages in both hands. He didn't question the action, it was the sort of thing thing an eccentric would do. Instead he opened the binder and quickly read through the contents.

He'd had no expectations. The speed of all of this prevented him from forming any, and he wasn't the sort of man who willingly held a halfhearted expectation, they made a person weak and stagnant. Yet still he was caught off guard by first page. The symbols of the Terran-Troll Governate, the United Terran Advisory Council accompanied by the signatures of all the organizational leaders. Authorizing the one Miss Pyrope sitting across the table to organize- "A mixed species task force with the position of... Aristagents?"

"It sounds better in Alternian doesn't it? Aristagent. Well, the one concession they made to Degaal was they let him pick the name. Not exactly Embassassin or Free-Legislacerator work but it's certainly suited to your acumen."

What exactly an Embassassin was Singh did not know, nor did the portmanteau make it sound particularly pleasant. He read on, the details of the position seemed explicitly vague, to the point it became apparent this was some clandestine shit. Sanctioned by the coalition of legitimate settled human governments that formed the UTAC and the xenos Governate, the joint task force of human and Trolls Aristagents was to serve as an investigative and proactive defence against hostile Troll and radical human organizations. Aristagents themselves were described as an unusual combination of investigator and military operator. Odd. "Why me?" Singh spoke the thought aloud, escaping his lips before he could help himself.

"Well. Your record caught my eye in many ways. I've a... Personal respect for what you've done. Humans from the places the Imperial Navy tried particularly hard to bomb out are either wallfloralarrangements that waited out the war or were rather nasty for the empire to deal with on the ground. With everything I saw first hand and inferred from your record, you were the natural first choice for me." Personal respect? It did not feel like a lie but- "So. Would you be interested in the work?" There was more to it. Singh could scarcely imagine what 'it' could be. Particularly now that Pyrope was now staring intently at him over a- job offer?

Yes, actually. He blinked as he realized this had been all for an aggressive sales pitch, drawn by someone who'd known the the largest and scariest Troll he'd ever seen by his first name. The connection was ignored. The connection to Pyrope and Darkleer was also ignored as was the possibility this was all nonsense and all of Pyrope's actions prior to her rebellion. Wasn't a chance he'd be able to work through that with the Troll waiting.

Banda Singh, working for what was effectively a perverse combination of X-COM and the CIA? The thought was absolutely preposterous. Or at least, it would have been, before he'd heard Pyrope cackling outside the door.

"Two questions. Who am I answering to? Who am I working with?" He leaned forward, pushing aside the binder.

"The security head of the Governate and the elected UTAC leadership. After them myself." She chuckled as she pushed the computer aside. "And for your second question? Me."

"No one else?"

"This particular initiative of Aristagents is based upon the looser Legislacerator structure, designed so that if a single cell is killed leadership will be immediately filled. The subsidiary cells which will answer directly to me as I am technically the leader of this operation. To be disbanded or expanded when I wish them to be. You would be the only other member of my, 'cell' so to speak."

Her body language had turned languid and more relaxed, explaining the intricacies of an organization she was already intimately familiar with and making sense of the more veiled wordings of the actual job description. "A lot of power and a lot of trust being placed in you." He kept his focus on her face.

No motion, no weakness, same xenos eagerness. "Mister Singh, the war wouldn't have had a victor if I hadn't danced a very specific dance. Similar to your own dance. That translations unit you delivered altered the course of the entire conflict and opened up the channel that led to Troll-human cooperation. Had just a a handful of people failed, human kind would continue its death march and the doomed empire would be allowed a few more years to rot." She chittered out a laugh. "I could use someone like you in this. Someone who is able to independently make decisions and hold themselves to a standard. An inferior me but certainly as close as I could find."

A war won upon a knifes edge. But what drew Singh's attention was what she didn't say. She was not asking for a subordinate but something else, something different. Trusting her back alone to a single human? One that she believed was the one to kill the Grand Highblood in all respects but the final blow?

His hand went back to the closed binder, thinking on it. This woman effectively was trusting that he wouldn't put shoot her in her sleep. Singh had admittedly worked with the CFMP, he understood the bullshit that was espionage and hostile nationless actors. But he was primarily military. To say nothing of what she'd kept hidden altogether, he suspected something had drawn her attention, outside of Makara's doom. But he could not for the life of him imagine it.

A thought caught him through the confusing haze. 'Who would watch the watchers?'

Yes. That would be enough.

"I never thought I'd take an offer like this from a Troll, but these are interesting times."

Her ears perked up, just about the only 'tell' he'd seen from her. "Is that a yes?"

"Two things." The impositions came immediately, having half formed and become coherent when the nonsensical became explicitly sensical. His hand reached into his belt. "I am not ignorant or an overtly virtuous sort of man. That said, if you do something I morally disagree with, I'm free to walk. Second, if you do something that deliberately threatens the peace I saw so much blood spent on?" He withdrew the Kirpan, sheath and all. It was a despicable act to threaten another with a such a blade. Unfortunately this was no idle threat. Rather, it was a very deliberate promise. 

The hand holding his Kirpan rested upon the table. "I will kill you. Now, Miss Pyrope. Is that agreeable?"

The laugh that came was at least one that did not grate upon Singh's battered ear drums, though it would still unnerve lesser men and Trolls. The former High Legislacerator adjusted her glasses. "I'd expect nothing less, Mister Singh. Those are agreeable terms." She stood, offering a hand after Singh had returned the Kirpan to its proper place. After a moments consideration, he accepted the handshake. Mindful of her claws and paused by her lukewarm temperature.

Pyrope picked up her bag, pulling the files over and putting them away. Closing the laptop and storing it she rose to her feet and- Yawned. The godawful cracking still made him tense up, and he still couldn't wrap his head around how they'd evolved the damned noise. She was of course unbothered as she pawed her cane back up. "Thank goodness, these past few days have been such a pain. But now the primary concern is out of the way the rest should fall into place."

"Really? Putting together an international task-force and your primary concern was filling out your own cell?"

"Oh yes, subordinates come easy. I've found a few hundred of proper quality, human intelligence types, ex-legislacerators. Forming teams of them comes naturally, void knows I've shepherded purr-beasts before. I however needed a... Counter-balance, so to speak. We really are at our most dangerous when we cooperate." She cackled without much force as she stood up, the stature of a dangerous woman fading as she rested upon her cane for a moment. Letting her wear show. "Now, would you permit me to rummage about in the fridge? I've been running on fumes for the better part of two nights now."

Singh looked over to the fridge in question, propriety finding him again as he thought he heard something beyond. "Well I wouldn't be the one to ask..." He tapered off as he most definitely heard someone outside. Heavy set footsteps that could only belong to one person. 

The doorknob rattled for a moment, handled by someone with an excess of caution as mush as they had excess strength. Singh braced as the door was pushed open. Darkleer didn't even look like he was awake with his eyes almost completely shut. Far from the black-clad and cold-stained memory about as much as one could get. The pink pajama pants and the sleeveless undershirt were both hilariously out of place on the old intimidating man. Then again, hunched over, half-asleep and looking vacantly ahead, diminished him as much as it possibly could.

This assumption was immediately shattered with the highest pitched noise Singh had ever heard. Closest to a human squeal but sharp and loud enough people in surrounding apartments probably heard it, Darkleer's noise came as his eyes opened. The blue blood immediately falling back into the hall and to his knees, head going low enough his horns almost hit the floor. "Your Honorable Tyranny! Forgive me I was- I was indisposed- Had I heard you were coming I would have waited to-"

The rambling desperate supplication fell away at Red-Glare's first step, her slow walk over stopping well away from the Blue blood. Oddly she did not restore her ferocious demeanor, though she rightly well could. "It's been a very long while, hasn't it Executor?"

Darkleer's gulp was audible. "Yes. Yes it has." The Blue said nothing more, barely even moving and visibly perspiring as Pyrope eyed him.

It was painfully obvious it was going nowhere quickly. Singh loudly coughed drawing the attention of both Trolls. "I'm growing very tired of being the one asking the questions Pyrope. But just how are you two acquainted?"

"Ours is only a passing acquaintance by virtue of neared offices. His era was a little before I came into my... Prime." She clicked dryly.

The perfect tool was how she'd described him. In this state with the hulking Darkleer kowtowed by the almost petite by comparison Red-Glare it was easy to see it. He still hadn't moved, perhaps he couldn't.

That was proven as a hard metal hoof hit him on the side. "Holy shit Leer would you stand up!?" Miss Megido came into view as she drummed her respectable metal heel into Darkleer's side attempting to get him up. Lambish hair shrouded most of her head and horns with a volume that almost obscured her face. Clad in dark blue boxers, she'd pulled on a black hoodie beside. She looked almost human if you ignored her eyes and legs. 

Her drummings did little but draw a deep growling tinged with a squelching that came with nervousness.

Megido looked over into the kitchen, at Pyrope who was now grinning like a shark and Singh sitting away feeling distinctly silly. She turned back to Darkleer kicking him again and clicking like a Geiger-counter. "If she was here to cull you then would she really be just chit-chatting with Aewroken?!"

Darkleer's growling became significantly phlegmier and he still did not budge.

Before the metal hoof could resume its assault on Darkleer's flank, Pyrope loudly clacked her cane against the ground, finally silencing the grotesque hiss. "Evocator Ebonveil Isn't it?" The Rust nodded, looking over to Singh questioningly. He shrugged. "You're correct, my business was with your house guest. Nothing troubling either, just a matter of employment that has already been concluded."

She stared, first at the brightly dressed Teal turned Aristagent. "Well. That's good, I guess." Megido did not sound like she believed her, looking back to Singh with a face that said 'tell me if she touched you.' Singh shook his head, the overdone Rust accepting the response. She turned back to kick Darkleer again, as the last individual living here popped his head in. 

Solheim stared for a moment, looking around with a vacancy brought on by absolute confusion. The garbled noise he produced was some incestuous slurry of words, only a single word of it passing through the translator. "- What -"

Miss Megido gave Darkleer one last kick prompting him to finally move before turning back to her moirail. "It's a bit complicated and honestly not worth explaining."

"Nothing life-threatening?"

"I don't think so."

"Wake me when there's bacon then." Solheim growled and then vanished. 

Darkleer pulled himself up though still evidently kowtowed by Red-Glare, the slow motion enough to pacify Miss Megido who was able to finally enter the Kitchen now that the blue's bulk had moved. Looking back between Singh who tried his best to look repentant and the sharp toothed Teal. "Well, could I offer you a bite to eat before you leave..."

"It's Hyralx. And yes, that would be lovely."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aristarchus of Samos was a cool guy.
> 
> Next; **[ENGAGE_INTERLUDE];[SiC][_I_][PHANTOM_BLOWSABELLA]**


	6. Interlude I; 『Deviless in Disguise』

Toni Yang was aware she was sandwiched between two people sleeping soundly. Two big dumb aliens if the size, thick hairless skin and the weird bumps sticking into her said anything, grub scars or whatever they were. She didn't wake up like this, because her body hadn't been hers to wake up to. 

Not that she minded, it was kind of fun, blanking out when the time came around and waking up in new places. 

Toni was just down for a wild ride. And From the growing awareness of what was bruised, it had been one hell of a ride. 

"Whoooooa." She groaned as she opened her eyes. A weirdly decadent looking ceiling greeting her. Like, fancy Vienna aristocrat trim and a faded out ceiling mural. The degraded poshness clashed against the ghetto ass pile she was lying in. A bundle of stolen mattresses with a stack of pillows and a blankets on top. A quick look caught a dour short horned Lime man on her left and an older worn down Teal woman on the right, both covered in bite marks, each other's blood and nothing else. Toni didn't know who they were and knowing how this usually went, they didn't know who she was. 

Which was A-Okay in Toni's book.

It took a little worming to escape the pile, careful to not wake the Trolls. They usually weren't morning people and she didn't really feel like they had any reason to talk. Popping out Toni hissed at the cold air and her own nakedness. The room had been weirdly opulent once, like something a fancy European aristocrat would have had a century back with the fitting and wood floors. But all the furniture had been junked or stolen aside the pile. The windows had been shattered and boarded over, imperfectly letting in a little light and a nasty late autumn chill. The floors weren't too dirty at least, her clothes had been scattered on the ground beside the Troll's but nothing looked ripped. Sneakers and socks tossed at the doorway, half open leading into darkness. 

A half broken mirror leaned up against the distant wall let Toni catch a glimpse of herself. She wasn't the half starved wretch she'd been back when she'd met her house-guest. Five foot six on the dot, Toni's skin had coloured out back to a buff hue, her straight pitch hair was just an inch from reaching her shoulders. Her eyes were the biggest change, which Toni hadn't detested at all. Before they'd been an a weak almond brown. Now they were dark red. It was nice that she couldn't see her ribs anymore, and other things had filled out. Usually other people liked that last thing part more than she did.

Toni got to her feet, getting a bit closer to the mirror to make out little things. Like the specks of teal and lime on her face she hastily wiped off, pulling up her ear she noted she had a new set of earrings on both sides. Just the lobes were pierced, but every time she woke up she had a new set in. These new ones were plain gold, pretty understated but kind of cute. A nasty bite on her shoulder that looked like it would heal up like the rest, a few scratches the same. But what really caught Toni were the new bruises. A full set wrapping up around her arms and circling her neck. 

"Man how'd you get us these?"

There was a moment were Toni thought she wouldn't answer. 

Which was fine. She usually didn't, and Toni wasn't exactly a serf-beating type of landlord. 

She caught a flash of wispy red passing from the corner of her eye, a presence rousing itself in Toni's mind that wasn't her own. 'Rope.' Damara somehow managed to sound hungover, which was impressive for a ghost. In spite of how ludicrous it would be to an outsider, the grouchy whisper was as real as the woman staring back at Toni in the mirror. 

Keeping track of time was difficult at the best, Damara kind of passively distorted the way time worked since she'd 'moved in.' Not like it hadn't been an absolute clusterfuck since the aliens had bombed her out and left her trapped in a basement for the whole god damn summer. Slow starvation, dehydration and boredom fucked her to the point where she'd thought Damara had been just another hallucination. One that was at least kind of cool and lit up the molded crawlspace. Talking to the hunger induced phantasms had been second nature at that point. 

Accepting one weird offer, Toni had blacked out as Damara took over her body, using her kickass psychic powers to get them out of the cement and wooden tomb Toni figured she'd die in. 

Since then the cool Ghost lady had gotten three days of every week, while Toni had gotten the rest. In spite of the whole 'global holocaust' thing, Toni's life had been kind of awesome since. Always waking up in new places, usually hundreds of miles from where she'd blanked out. Not having to worry about money, being able to eat whatever she wanted. Not having to worry about being alone again.

Pulling on her clothes, she found them to be covered in _just_ the right amount of dirt and stainage. Enough to be cool and street, not enough she looked like a trash-panda in human form. The weird mesh gitch Damara had grabbed from god knew where, frayed jeans, (not originally) grey shirt and a thick ass fur collared parka three sizes too big for her. It didn't take that long, the drill was thoroughly memorized at this point. She left the parka unzipped after checking her pockets, making sure the fake ID and all the other 'important' stuff was there before she pulled on her socks and sneakers. Escaping the room with the noise of two loud Trollish snoozing left in her wake. 

The hallways were much like the room, once some proper uptight shit. Fancy wallpaper, chandeliers that now hung dead from the ceiling and in some cases shattered. Floors in a much worse state than the cleaned sleeping space. Glass and burn marks everywhere, most of the doors boarded up or dark. Toni heard nothing but the distant wind, though there were probably more squaters around here. Not that she had much to worry about anything, Dams made fucking 『Killer-Queen』 look like cheap firecrackers when she wanted to. 

Toni set out, navigating the mess of hallways searching for the exit. The building she found herself in was a desiccated mess, but she didn't mind. Nothing was rushing her, letting Toni go at her own pace.

But after a moment she realized Damara was still just sort of 'there.' In the back of her head. Seeing everything Toni could see, hearing everything Toni could hear. Usually she burnt herself entirely, only resurfacing when Toni pulled her out or if something was wrong. 

It wasn't a problem, Damara was just not the kind of person to dwell around.

"So, anything exciting happen while I was out? Besides the usual stuff." Toni said aloud. She kind of hated 'thinking' to Damara, it felt messy when they were both up there.

There was a pause as Toni rounded another corner. A door marked by an unlit green sign with 'Východ' above it ahead. So, Eastern Europe maybe? She didn't have time to think on it as a sandpaper rough groan filled her head. 

'Well...'

The presence didn't diminish as it eased out over her mind. Letting Toni catch a feeling of disdain, confusion, blinking Lime tinge and a few memories of two familiar Trolls fucking her brains out. 

Huh. Normally Dams was on the other end of the shibari. 

"You okay? You feel a lot more, like, put together than usual when you come off the wheel." She grunted as she pushed the door open and stepped outside.

The ungodly overhead light of noon blinded her for a moment forcing Toni to blink. Outside the streets were paved with stone brick with sidewalks done up much the same, signs in a language Toni guessed was West Slavic marking the way. Few cars rolled along, few people walked the stone sidewalks. Building fronts of old European Romance, hard Soviet Brutalist were marked by pocks of explosions and bullets. Most of the windows around the street burst. But even now across the way she saw repairs being made. Scuttled and reworked alien shuttles hovering overhead allowing work crews easy access to parts of caved in rooftops and flame ruined fronts. Scaffolding being erected. Rubble being carried off. 

Toni whistled to herself as she waited on Damara, making her way off looking for an ATM. First order of business was cash, second order of business was food. Because fuck ever going hungry again. It felt like an old city immediately unlike the boring organization of an American city, the way the streets wound about like growing roots. Old churches and synagogues passed in various states of disrepair, some little more than rubble and a few walls. She followed foot traffic, letting the human current pull her towards civilization. 

The ancient bridge caught Toni's attention the moment it came into view, reasonably untouched beside literally halved buildings with a tall stone tower guarding its approached. Packed heavy with people, vendors of fairly conventional persuasion lining the way. She recognized it immediately. "Karlův bridge? We're in Praha? Like, Czech country?"

'Caught a ride out here.' Damara grumbled in her head, probably not even know what a Czech was. 

'I'm fine Girl. But I feel... Present. Yes.'

To be fair to the alien ghost, Toni only knew about it because she'd tapped in on a while back on with nothing to read but an old Tourist magazine. The old stone arch bridge looked good, by comparison to the rest of Prague amazing. All the old statues of Saints that guarded the sides remained relatively unharmed bar a few nicks and cracks. Contrast to the visible banks of buildings lining the river front battered and scarred by damage, old spiral rooftops severed and domes collapsed. Walking a little towards the west bank from the east, Toni caught a view of where the Saint Vitus Cathedral and the old Royal Palace had been high in the distance. 

They were gone. So thoroughly that walking upon the bridge one wouldn't have even known they'd existed, if you hadn't seen a picture of what had been. Sad, but it wasn't like there was anything Toni could do about it. Passing through the crowd was easy, alone slipping through she reached into her pocket and pulled out a long since dead earpiece. Better to look like she was talking to someone, rather than looking like she was rambling to herself like an absolute nutcase.

"So... Wanna talk about it? Cause It isn't like you're doing anything else." Crossing the Vltava was strange, so many people passing on the old Bridge almost absurd until she caught sight of the other bridges. The Mánes bridge to the North was missing most of its form, only a few chunks sticking out of the river. The Legií bridge downriver hadn't fared much better, though two hovering grey shuttles and a number of boats looked like they'd begun repairs. 

'I can't put it into words without it sounding idiotic.'

"Well, try. It isn't like anyone is going to hear you but me, and you literally use my junk." 

"Don't get snippy with me Girl." Toni kept moving, ignoring the vendors and the crowds as she went. Passing all the way over the Vltava river, the Karlův kept going over the city. Rooftops and dirtied buildings cropping up all around, in better repair than the side of the river she'd left behind. Damara's explanation came slowly, as the bridge fell way to the ground in what had once been a tourist walking space. 'It feels like everything is becoming clearer. Like there's more... Substance to things here. Here as in the space of ghosts and psions.'

Talking with her about the really weird shit was abstractions on top of abstractions. Toni just cut to it as she saw what she was looking for, a dingy little doorway marked with a big blue **€**. "So what? Is that bad?"

'That's bad Girl, real bad.' The ghost whispered. Toni frowned as she entered what had once been a tourist trap, now turned currency exchange. At the back a series of lit up boards displayed exchange rates for international currencies, some familiar, some new, and a few made her squint for a moment. She'd ask who was exchanging full grown sheep for Euros and Rubles but if it was up there then someone must have done it. A clerk behind a barred counter was currently arguing with a number of uniformed men in what was probably Czech, letting her slip over to the ATM at the side. 

Damara lent out her strength in little bits, enough that it was safe for Toni, enough she didn't even have to be awake for Toni to use it. She snapped her fingers on her off hand and everything just sort of 'clicked.' Everything about the bruised and scuffed automatic teller was apparent, from the inside. An implicit sort of awareness wherein every mechanism was as naked if she could see and touch it. Psionics pushing aside locks and bypasses and systems with just enough force they wouldn't trigger security. All while sliding a stack of bills up and out. Into her waiting hand. She pulled out the stack of twenties, pocketed them and quickly stepped back out before the grin broke out on her face. Ominous and vague doom aside, Toni felt like she wouldn't ever get tired of that. 

'I don't how it's happening. Much less why. This sort presence shouldn't be possible here.'

"Why's that?" Toni asked as she took off, adjusting the earpiece as she went. 

'It took a billion sweeps of Outer Circle flagellating about the dark oceans and tens of billions of trolls that perished in misery to birth the Alternia's dreaming place. It was potent enough the phantasm as a whole followed Trollkind until Gl'bgolyb did us all a favour and imploded the miserable rock that birthed it. Like uprooting a vile tree by hewing the trunk.'

She paused, a noise that was the memory of annoyed clicks filling the space between Toni's ears. 

'At this rate in two centuries this planet will have a dream space equal to Alternia. With all the horrors that come with it.'

Well. That didn't sound good. 

Toni half stopped before her growling stomach forced her step. Still thinking about everything Damara had given her, but also half thinking about... Lunch? Whatever meal it was. "Think it's your boss?"

'No. This timeline isn't even in his radar. All the elements of his scheme are running on autopilot. At least that was what I believed, something must be generating this.'

"well, any idea what then?"

Another moment, a little red bleeding into Toni's vision. 'No. Everything that could is dead or doesn't exist in this reality. Can't rather. The laws of its space and time don't allow for it.'

Toni snorted. "You're dead Dams."

'I'm an exception. I've said that a dozen times Girl. Peh. Remind me to try AEA again next time I get the keys to your body. Choking might at least shift your brain-cells a bit.'

The threat was an idle one, probably borne out of someone who didn't like being out of the loop. Her hand came up to her bruised neck. "Yo, I told you, everything outside of what we agreed on? I'm down for."

An ablative clack. 'Wretch.' Damara laughed a little, dwindling but not as much as she usually did. Waiting, probably thinking. Still there watching regardless. 

Toni kept on going, passing back from the foot paths back to streets built around car roads. Searching for something that looked like food. Real good food. A distant set of what could only be Golden Arches made Toni shudder and duck out onto another street. Nope, never again.

'Toni? Could I keep an eye on this when I have control?' For the first time there was an uncertainty in the voice dwelling in her head. Damara noticed it as well, hissing loud enough she half wondered if someone else was going to hear it. 'I just don't want the kid's sacrifice being for nothing.'

It would be easy to be incredulous if Toni hadn't had the whole story. To laugh. Toni didn't. 

"You do you Dams. You want to look into it, I'm along for the ride." 

'Thank you.' Small the gratitude, removed like the fading presence beside. But not yet gone. 

Toni kept on walking, her quest being rewarded as she caught sight of a veritable hole in the wall. It had no sign though it looked like there had been hanging above the twinned entrances at some point. The two sets of doors inside looked like they'd been stolen elsewhere, a mish-mash of wood and glass. Opening one she noted more likely scavenged furnishing, a full bar and an almost full house of locals in varying states. Most being older mustached men staring at a Television set up near the front at the bar. Football, in the Euro sense of the word. Truly the cockroach of sports. But it was warm, the air smelled like cooking pizza and there was an empty spot at the bar. "Snazzy."

She stepped in, feeling about as out of place as usual before stumbling up to the bar. Everyone else there had enough facial hair to make Ambrose Burnside jealous, ignoring her as she sat herself upon a stool. Toni pulled out the bills, filing through them as she noted the scribbled menu written out on was Czech and Italian. Oh boy. 

Toni was left to guess, quietly thanking whoever it was that numbered the menu so she could at least scribble down an unambiguous number on a napkin. Whatever it was, food was food and the whole fucking place smelled wonderful. How much of that was hunger or the actual smell she didn't know. 

She didn't have to wait long for the bartender to come along, a heavier set blonde woman whose eyes immediately went to Toni's neck. Eyes never really leaving the bruising even as she spoke up. First in the local tongue, then something heavier. "Uh. Sorry, no Czech, no German. No Čeština or Deutsch." She pulled out what she'd counted to be the proper amount, with a generous tip, tapping down at the napkin with the number. "Uh. Two of those. And a," She signaled with her fingers the numbers, and thinking for a moment if it was too early for drinking.

Wait, hold up, this was Europe. And that was stupid.

She pointed over to the man next to her, specifically at the half empty mug in his hand signalling for one on the other hand. The woman understood and took the money. Turning away to the register to deposit it. Letting Toni catch a glimpse at her back, though Toni's eyes immediately fell to a certain place.

Damara's laughter echoed in the back of her head. 'Nice rump.'

"E'yup."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Toni is the kind of woman who unironically thinks upon being offered a devil's bargain by a literal Deviless; _'Yo she'll be my stand.'_
> 
> Next; **Avarayri; Fail to deal with Public Appearance.**
> 
> **Dolorosa; Deal with Public Perceptions, preferably with sass.**


	7. Attention, Such as It Is

( ◉ )

"I've said it before if it's too much I can-"

"I'm fine." Gael croaked in spite of the shake in her hand. The light aluminum cane was familiar at this point, despite the discomfort that came in holding it and roughly determining what was in front of her, the process still awkward. Ashdod was at the best of times a fucking mess even if the city but, like most of the Front, was better organized than it had any right to be. Focusing through all the noise and the shouts all translated through the earpiece in her working ear was a challenge. More so getting down locations when Rosa was gripping onto her shoulder on Gael's hearing side.

From the way she creaked it Gael was pretty sure Rosa wanted to just pick her up. Couldn't. They'd both agreed that Gael needed to get a working hold of herself if something happened. Able to move around the city and get to where Dolorosa worked and other places if something happened to the Troll. Something that Gael had forced herself back into her older more defensive mindset to achieve with mixed success. Able to function, much as she could, able to keep her discomfort silent.

The same could not be said for Dolorosa who'd been clicking since they'd left their apartment, her hand never leaving Gael's shoulder as they made their way through Ashdod. For guiding only in name. "If you're certain."

"It's as good as it's getting." Gael managed even though her throat felt tight. Everything hardening up from caution bordering on preparation for an unseen blow which never came. 

It had been like that before, but at least then she could put her back to a wall and use her eyes to sate herself. In her current body relying upon the cane it was almost impossible to feel secure. The sightless state was one thing, but the noise? Everywhere, almost to the point it hurt at times. New translator making sense of the controlled chaos but the din of cars and shouts always had her tense and on edge, forcing her to a stop if the ringing began. Leaving her deaf as well as blind for a moment until it passed.

Which happened more often than Gael cared to admit. 

In spite of it things went better than they'd been on prior trips, only stopping twice because of the ringing. Gael noting Dolorosa's hand progressively growing more and more fidgety. Grip tight the entire time. Gael said nothing about it, allowing the Jade to do the guiding. Wanting to say something but knowing it would probably just work her up worse at this point. Just focus on steps, by number and direction. 

Gael succeeded, so much so that when Dolorosa froze she almost didn't notice. Halting as even the fidgeting stopping. Middle of the sidewalk, felt and heard people passing swiftly. Rosa's hand didn't move, though Gael felt her shift, turning her head maybe. Probably a bad sign. Listening. For what though, Gael couldn't guess.

Gael turned her head up regardless. "What's wrong?"

"It's- nothing major." Dolorosa chittered without much conviction, already taking a step back. "Could I take you down a different route?"

"Is that really necessary?" There was a pause, a muffled chitter above Gael's head coming. "Alright. Rosa what is it?" 

"Just Trolls I want to avoid." She took another step back, still not pulling on Gael though she rightly could.

"What kind of avoid? Crazies or gamblignants or what?"

"Nothing particularly ill-willed or kind to brigandry just-" Another uncomfortable creak. A man passing audibly grumbling about the pair blocking the Sidewalk coming and going before the Jade found her voice. "Just sorts I don't wish to be seen by."

'Don't want to be seen by.' That didn't answer much and with Rosa's uncharacteristic turn Gael it would be difficult to not press. "Dolorosa that's a pretty big something."

"I'll explain it later, I promise. It's just- it's just complicated."

She finally wrangled the clicking, still holding on leaving the Jade probably awkwardly looming overhead, Gael all too aware they were just holding up street traffic. Straining for anything on what Rosa was worried about and finding nothing, she shook her head. "Alright. Lead on."

Even through the hand on her shoulder and the sigh, Gael felt the tension dissipate. "Thank you." She clicked, a light pull re-orientating the human around. Guiding her away from the noise of the road and the street-goers into what felt like an alleyway, cane hitting a can with an almost dirty aluminum crunch. Placing it well enough in her 'view' Gael could kick it aside as her walk carried. 

Gael could still feel tension, and an almost skittish shifting above her. She was still nervous, vulnerable as much as she could be in whatever it was that'd unnerved her. 

Was it clowns? Oh god, fuck if it was actually clowns. Gamblignants might be better.

"Just make sure you tell me exactly what 'it' is later."

She caught the motion of a nod though the Jade said nothing. Gael sighed and focused solely on directions.

It was slower than before, more cautious. Half-stops paid as she likely looked for whoever she'd heard before. As worrying as it should have been, what was more unnerving was the absence. Whatever it was, there wouldn't be much need to lie about them. So either she'd underestimated Rosa's trust in her or it was something else. Gael caught nothing to reveal it, forcing herself to focus on the more complex path. 

The Jade almost felt relaxed when they finally stepped back out into the open street if the noise revealed anything, a sharp turn drawing them towards their destination. "Here we are."

Motion other than walkers up ahead, dimmed clicking and someone rising with a clack of plastic. A rough but warm voice brought them to a stop. "Miss Maryam! I was wondering if something happened." The bio-electric tinted English did it's job from two places, coming out almost smooth as an actual English speaker. 

"Nothing besides the inordinate traffic unfortunately." The lie came seamlessly, at least seamlessly to an outsider. The Jade's hand tensed up as Gael snapped her cane up. With a quick pull the light metal sheathed itself up to the size of a baton, small enough she could fit it into her pocket. 

Figure it all out later. Gael put her hand on the Jade's. "I'll be fine. See you when you get off?"

A small exhale overhead and the Jade's grip finally relinquished her shoulder, tracing away fast. "Of course dearest." She passed, moving at a 'normal' pace that vanished from Gael's limited range in a moment. 

Leaving her alone with the noises of two- no three people beside, one oddly close to the other as it sat back down with a huff. Close enough it sounded like it was breathing on top of his head. Shifting of clothes and the noise of what was likely a plastic chair being moved. Then tapped against the weak sounding plastic. "Have a seat. It's eh... Gael, isn't it?" The warm voice questioned.

"Yea, it is." Unsteady steps over to the chair, hand awkwardly extending ahead. Mercifully it was just a chair that she turned and slumped into. Pulling her legs up and crossing them. "Thanks."

"I'm Hussein, it's a pleasure to finally meet you. This is-"

"Hey, can I, eh, see your face?" The second firm breath spoke up. Both of them had their own translators from the modular tint. English, running over Arab. But this one was thicker, with an almost gravelly humor to it apparent in even the translation. 

Still, the awkward question had Gael turn to face them. "What?" 

Hussein scoffed, the third small breather making a distinctly alien clicking sound. Sounded still like she was hanging above Hussein's head. "Really Rashid?"

"Oh come on, everyone can see your face, everyone can see mine. I want to see hers."

Sitting forward and turning to the 'Rashid' Gael snorted. "Take a picture if you want. It'll last longer."

Gael heard Hussein tense up, but before he could say anything the Rashid clapped. "Aaaaaaaaah! That's good! You look like your took mortar to the face lady! How'd you even make it out?"

"Well." She managed after a second, thinking back. Admittedly Gael hadn't looked at herself in a mirror since Ottawa. Not like it mattered to her much at this point but the end result was probably disconcerting. "It's a long story." 

"Well that's what I want to hear. Long summer felt a lot longer than it was. And I spent most of it sitting around guarding food lines like an ass." Rashid croaked over the still voiceless third party's chittering. 

"You don't have to humor him. He's only here because we need a second full body between the two of us." Hussein said with a noise that might have been a laugh that had no air to begin with.

"It's fine. All things considered I don't mind all that much. Just haven't said it to anyone." Gael leaned back into the seat. Memories of it all passing, sordid details mostly that made her snort. "To make a long and boring story a lot shorter I got grabbed about midways through the war as far as I can tell. Dragged off planet, beaten down and sold off. If it hadn't been for Dolorosa I wouldn't be here."

"Wait a second." Rashid said, with the rustle of him leaning forward in his seat. "Some of that nose-job is direct isn't it? Done with bug claws right?"

"Eyes and a bit of the face yea. Rest of is mostly getting beaten when I was in the cages or from the fight." She managed to smile, remembering the ludicrousness of it. "Can't say how much of the fight marks is me and how much is the actual trolls."

Rashid's low whistle was muted under a noise of discomfort from Hussein. "I'd heard a bit of it from Maryam and others. Nowhere enough to be respectful I'm afraid. Did they... Did they actually keep slaves?"

"They had a whole trade going on upstairs. Mostly just lowbloods but occasionally you got aliens like us and colder castes. If they got it really bad."

"I figured." Hussein grimaced, above his head the Troll noise took a distressed note Gael was far too familiar with, slower and lilting. She tilted her head to focus on it, noticing the roughing of clothes and motion.

"Mind if I ask who that is?"

"Oh, yes. Forgive me I didn't even realize-" Before he could finish the pounce came. Both men jerked as the Troll jumped from off of it's resting place onto the back of Hussein's chair onto Gael's and Gael herself. Flinching up though the weight of the Troll was hardly what she'd expected, enough to rock the chair under her but nothing more. "Mona!" The Troll was light, nothing more than a child Gael realized as the alien hugged her. 

Motion beside shifted Gael who managed to grunt. "It's alright eh-" The tiny Troll shifted rolling off Gael's back onto her side, bunting it's head against her. It took her a moment before she recognized the soft rumble, one of the weirder conciliatory ones. "Mona is it?" The purr shifted into a gentle trill. Enough for Gael to relax. "Yea, this is fine." 

Rashid audibly hackled as he sat back down, Hussein sighing. "Sorry about her she's- a handful. Was used for power on one of their smaller ships and probably didn't have any contact with an adult or a caretaker between us finding her and... What's the term?"

"Molting?"

"Yes, that's it."

"Huh." The trilling faded though Mona didn't move. Oddly, it wasn't uncomfortable. Gael's hand pulled up for a moment, finding the little Troll's head, wiry hair wrapping around the soft textured horns. Shifting back to the 'appropriate place' to scratch for a stranger at the back of the head. Earning a small happy purr for her efforts. "Well, I'm alright with her. Had to get used to touching stuff at this point, I'm down to that and an ear."

"Yes. I lost a leg, an eye and more of my gut than I care to admit. It's an odd thing. In the first few days it was nothing, but that was probably be because I had other issues. Time goes on and I haven't really caught up." Hussein said. With only enough volume that Gael would have missed it if she wasn't paying attention. The noise of the street and cars dampening everything.

Beside Rashid grumbled, a noise of a rummaging coming, followed by what could only be the crack of a can of carbonated beverage. "Eh, the worst I can say is headaches and unexpected noises just- Ringing my ears. Looks like absolutely nothing beside you two though." Hussein chuckled as the other man took a loud drink. "No way I can complain without sounding like a shit."

Tinnitus was a lot less funny when it could turn all-encompassing. "There's worse things you can sound like."

"Pah! I'm lucky man, not that this whole deal isn't luck but I lucked out on dice rolls on top of dice rolls. Should be alien plagues ravaging the planet right now. Should be mass starvation. Should us and the settlers finally having our dumb showdown. But for some reason we've all lucked out. Even you two are up to get fixed... Right?"

"I'm not with the UF. Not happening by that means I don't think."

Rashid audibly twisted, the noise of something metal slapping against his plastic chair coming. "Well- the least you should do is submit the papers. He's on for next winter and Hussein got in early! Hell, even Sinai nutcases are viable."

"That whole thing has been a process." Gael said, the turn of conversation making it easier to focus on the receptive little that had sloped into her lap. "I don't even know if they'll take me, I've got people who can vouch for me but I don't have anything that proves I was military. Might not even be worth it timewise."

Hussein was quiet, his absence making him fade out of the world for all Gael could tell. Rashid on the other hand with how he shifted and snarked was almost to the point where Gael could make out the details. Half-picture what he was doing. "Oh but the Nile Cossacks and the pot-caps get in. Dog fuckers in Antioch jump ship and get in."

A hard clasp, what might have been a hand coming down on a shoulder. "That's the reality of the situation. With the return and all the new arrivals the offer is there, but-"

"It is what it is. Honestly, I'm fine with waiting. Sometimes I feel like it's all harder on Maryam than it is for me." She croaked, shifting to let Mona fully slump against her. The little Troll felt like she was skin and bones, and even under her hair Gael could feel the distinct roughness of Troll scar tissue. "I've gotten used to it. Messed up as is."

A pause, Hussein fading again as Rashid audibly chugged down the rest of his drink. The sounds of the street and Mona overtaking everything else for a time. Voices, most indistinct, all ignored. 

Couldn't complain at least, even if Gael felt like she was stuck in a weird it was a nice one. Not intrusive.

It was Rashid who broke the silence with his same bluntness.

"You an American scarface?"

That managed to earn a smile out of her. "Non. Je suis Canadienne."

The two men's translators both made a distinct click. Shifting from English to French without the seamless speed of some models. A moment later Rashid almost giggled. "Now I think I've seen everyone come through here." Motion from him, a noise that could only be an empty can cracking into something hollow coming a ways away. "Think we've seen every type of European and even American pass through. But the latter's mostly southern sight seers."

"Southern like... Dixe Americans or South Americans?"

"South Continental, apparently they took almost no damage compared to the rest of us. I mean, god. We're still all glaring at each other and helping with the zealot bandits out in the Oceanic, and some Portuguese asshole comes along to snap photos of us. Like we're zoo animals or something." Rashid shifted, talking again in Gael's direction. "At least that's what I'm hearing, it's some Island hopping bullshit apparently. Aliens who sided with us and nutters that like fighting doing the heavy lifting. But it's still out there."

It passed out from there. From hard topics to softer things. Rashid loud and honest if nothing else, Hussein more refined, quiet and contemplative. Despite her worries, It was... Comfortable. At least, comfortable as it could be to talk with two strangers on the streetside. Helped by a relax in traffic, no hearing episodes, a little Troll purring on her side...

For a while, Gael felt normal. Like a human being.

Still, long years of inclination brought her to notice it first. 

'It' being a lull, few cars and no voices. Letting something heavy and sharp carry over the winds. Conscious of the natural reaction she tensed, arm wrapping around Mona as she leaned forward. Noise of both men to her side didn't change but the little Troll caught on. Tensing up as her chittering failed. Gael shifted craning her head to catch the noise again.

Nothing, beside her directly she heard Hussein shift.

"Gael?"

She said nothing, waiting and was rewarded with another downwind noise. Only then making out what could be the clinks made by chain.

( ♍︎ )

Things had worked out simultaneously better and worse than Sayrii had expected. Better in that keeping out of the way she'd managed to avoid anymore of Kadarn's followers who seemed to be growing in number around this part of the city. All too often she'd noticed the growing number of the grey manacle symbols, they'd been growing their ranks. Even some humans were carrying the terrible symbol now. On chain necklaces that could only mean one thing. The ever-present concern she'd be recognized was growing, if it kept up like this it would be inevitable before someone drew the connection. 

The full extension of just how bad things could turn she tried not to think about. Because if Dolorosa thought about it she'd possibly drive herself insane. Coping with overwhelming and unsolvable problems was nothing new, but this particular mess was a culmination of prior much larger messes.

It stung worse now, needing to lie to her matesprite and only able to get away with it by telling herself it was temporary. That'd she'd get everything else out at some point. But there was no easy was she could explain just how far the metaphorical burrowing creature tunnel went. 

Work kept the worst of the idling thoughts at bay. Layla perhaps purposefully acting more the workhorse than usual. The gnattering of what to say later was kept at bay. In spite of the half-formed worries in Hussein's plan, everything seemed to have worked out well. Whenever she snuck over to the front door and listened Gael seemed relaxed, the Jade's other half had the little gold-blood hanging onto her. The sight was adorable.

It felt like, as the afternoon rolled to a halt this anxious mess of a day would end with her worries unfounded.

Dolorosa and Layla beside her both jerked when the front door slammed open and Rashid came barreling in. A young human man, he was short and rough looking at best, his PDF uniform sullied with sweatstains, one hand reached up to the rifle slung on his back unconsciously. 

He stumbled over to the counter, looking almost unsteady on his feet.

Before Dolorosa could open her mouth Layla was out from behind the counter. "What's the problem?"

"Problem, yea, big problem. Are the horn-heads doing anything like the mortaring dog-fuckers last week? Festival like?" Rashid said, almost jumping on his feet. A familiar sinking feeling set in for Dolorosa as she stepped out behind Layla.

"I haven't heard of anything." Layla shook her head, already stepping towards the front door.

Rashid quickly looked from Layla back over to Dolorosa almost... Scared? "Right, then we have a crowd that's heading in this direction."

The sinking feeling deepened, like a sinkhole was opening up in Dolorosa's gut. "What?"

Layla turned back to Rashid as the man struggled. "I- they're wearing the stuff the ones on the corner do? Red and-"

"Chains." The sinking feeling bottomed out as Dolorosa finished for the human, who nodded feverishly. "Perfect." She half-growled through closed fangs.

"Is this from that one the dog dragged in last week?" Layla asked.

"I'd be lying if I said it wasn't a possibility. But it's also likely this would have happened eventually. Regardless I'll deal with it." Dolorosa stepped forward, almost unconsciously rolling up her sleeves as she stepped out. One hand raising back, to behind her shoulder but falling with as her conscious mind remembered she had no weapons here. 

Suddenness allowed Dolorosa to ignore the hollow worry as she stepped out into the diminished street, bathed in the reddened light of the setting sun. Hussein had risen with a nervous look, Mona retreating to his shoulders. Gael still sat, her whole head turned to listen on down the street. Outside, she caught the all too familiar noise that made her flinch. The heavy clinks of iron chains. She felt Layla and Rashid step out behind her, Layla heavy stepped and Rashid nervous in his motions, other humans about either watching on or pulling of with a haste brought by concern.

Turning, the sight of the approaching group turned the emptiness in her gut. Dolorosa had noticed the vestments of the Sufferer before on Earth but never before had it been so blatant and naked. Like a caravan of ghost, the crimson and dark grey drawing her gaze like metal drawing lightening in a storm. The group was at least composed of at least two dozen filling the entire sidewalk and covered in chains and her son's accursed mark. Faces largely obscured by a long familiar style of hood. 

Necessity forced her off, putting space between nervous humans and the band of cultists. Forcing her brow low and her step long, hands balling into fists at her sides. A frustrated his coming on as she the group came to a stop a dozen paces from the Kanafani's front door. The noise stopped the cultists dead in their track, none of them even came close to her size, the entire group looking and smelling to be low or mid caste.

The difference of height was so great the leader of the sordid party was forced to pull himself back, pulling his hood up to reveal a familiar face. The Rust from last week, the sight of him turning the sudden hardness of her figure even firmer, like her chest was turning to stone. Weakening the empty feeling and replacing it with anger.

"Hail Matron of matrons. It- it is you isn't it?" He clicked, look shifting from confident to furtive.

"I have been called those words before."

"The Dolorosa? Or I guess-" He paused, pulling his hand up to his ear and pulling a rough translator away, roughly clearing his throat. " _The Dolorosa?_ "

Old Imperial earned a twitch, ragged in its pronunciation and thickly tinged by an accent that had never known Alternia, but still her name. Dolorosa killed the almost growl with a deep exhale. 

"Again, I've been called that before, to the point it would be my name regardless." The jade chittered tersely, feeling the silence and human stares burning into her backside, all the while the cultists slowly turned to each other. Unset and clicking among themselves. One in the back in plainer grey vestments forcing his way to the front as the Rust struggled to respond.

"I-" Was all he managed before the grey clothed cultist reached him, roughly slapping a dark-hided hand up and clapping the Rust on the shoulder, almost making him jump and silencing any half-hearted attempt to prod further. 

"There's no way it could be anyone else." The grey cloaked interjected, voice aged much as his hide. A cold feeling washed over the Jade. "I remember your horns. Your gaze. You are the Dolorosa of Alternia. Guardian of our Savior."

The words allowed the Rust to find his voice, murmurs of assertions behind bolstering him. "Everyone heard the tale of your death but-" The Jade's knuckles cracking was loud enough the Rust's voice cut. 

"But yet I stand here still, as a sort of joke or an echo of your own ritualistic sycophancy. Is that it?" A note of cold anger slipped into her voice, unconstrained and apparent. Not that she could stop it, even if she could she wouldn't wish to.

It sent the Rust tittering. "We mean no offence Dolorosa! We'd just-"

The half-hearted defence was cut in half with a venomous hiss. "Just thought to scare every human on the street?! Uselessly prostrate yourselves before me perhaps? Or did you expect that I would be grateful for a horde arriving at my employer's doorstep? Did not a single one of you think perhaps I was keeping to myself for a reason or are you so thoughtless that not for even one of you cared to question this venture!?" The Rust simpered several cultists stepping back.

The only one unbothered was the older grey robed troll. Hand coming up to her hood and pulling it back.

She was old, face covered in scars and bleak Olive chroma tattoos. Tribalistic, half-recognized. There had been more of them when she'd been young like that, the half-faded memories passing. "Matron." The old Olive spoke softly, and took a step forward, though the hand on the Rust was now holding him by the scruff on his robes. Keeping him in place Dolorosa realized. "We all thought you were slain by the Orphaner and that some joke was played upon your corpse. Just as most of us thought the Psiioniic slain and the Disciple driven to madness in isolation. We've endured for a long while in the absence of any lasting guidance."

She scoffed, unable to work up any of the coldness for the elder. "I was slain. Or I might as well have been, for all my health was." 

The Olive stared while the rest of her band chittered among themselves, but slowly the elder smiled. "Then if you would allow me to say so, you look good for a shade-maker." The smile dimmed, but did not fail. "It's been an age and there have been all manner of rumors about you. Where were you all these sweeps?"

The absence of noise did Dolorosa no favours, and she was all too aware of the human observers. "Bound to a turnkey. That is all I will say on that matter." 

"Then, I will not inquire further." The Elder Olive nodded, unbothered by the fact the Rust she was gripping on to looked as if he was actively trying to un-clench the fist holding him. "Does the Disciple know you're here? If not are you going to make your presence known to the Disciple and the Psiioniic? We on the soil of this planet have only heard the Olive Scriptor's messages and seen her ensigns, but we could find a way to send word."

And there was the pit again. Gael would hear that. As would her employers. 

Disciple was out there. As was Psiioniic. At least the cultists believed they were.

Too much, too fast. Conscious thought inflicted a burst of nausea that forced the hard whisper from her. "I very much wish you wouldn't. I would go as far as to ask for your silence. And for you to keep everyone connected to your band quiet. I-" Her voice caught in her thought, a reflexive growl forcing the rest of it through. "I am far from ready to return. I know not if I will ever be."

Silence. From the cultists and the humans behind. The only reprieves a passing truck and an almost unheard clicking from Mona. Small fearful looks among the Troll numbers, not one of her ward's disciples even daring to speak as the Olive slowly nodded. 

She creaked after a moment to the Rust. "Tebual?"

Tebual turned but his face was tipped down to the Olive's feet. "Yes Laisae?" 

The slap came loud enough at least two of the cultists in the back jumped, behind Mona audibly squeeped. Tebual swayed as visibly dazed as Laisae released him, another cultists grabbing him to keep him from falling over. A full hand-print welt already forming up on the side of his head as the older Olive leaned in. "Clamp down on everyone you blabbed to you inexcusable moron." 

A hackled noise somewhere between a groan and a croak came, Tebual nodding feverishly.

The Olive huffed, turning away from the Rust to look at the rest of the party. "And I expect the same of all of you." 

The spell broke and there came sharp assertions, yeses and nods, three voices she recognized clearly in the back from earlier. A few in the back broke rank, the Troll holding Tebual up turning and moving to drag the unsteady Rust off. 

Satisfied, Laisae turned back, eyes up to Dolorosa before falling. She bowed her head outright. "Forgive us, Matron."

"You are forgiven." The words escaped Dolorosa before she could even think to stop them. 

Like the old nights. Any anger she had was gone, though the emptiness remained behind the growing weight of the stares behind her. The absence crippling as the party of cultists shifted, fading from a misdirected caravan into a fragmented crowd, several pulling of their hoods and apologizing, a few shifting to talk among themselves, scattering who had heard what and when. One of the tallest of the group though still a head shorter than Dolorosa made their way to Laisae, a bag from under their robes in hand. The taller troll tapping silently on the olive's shoulder, drawing her attention to the offered satchel.

"I must offer you something Dolorosa, for I fear word of your survival will spread. Nothing stays a secret for long on this planet. It's knitting itself back together, tighter than it was." Laisae chittered softly, taking the bag from the larger troll, opening it and searching inside for something. 

"I-" The Jade able to only get a click in before the Olive chirped. Clicking with satisfaction as she pulled out a stunningly thick bundle of bills out from the bag and offering it to Dolorosa.

"Here. It's nothing much, just the tithe of our band. Normally we'd put it to the good works, helping things out but... Our mistake... If not as our Matron of Matrons, then as someone who has been unduly inconvenienced. By the blatherings of overly mouthy Trolls." A few clicks of agreement from the remainder of the group. One audibly groaning in the back Tebaul at least had initiative and the rest of them had just gone along with it, half covered by reflexive creaks. 

Still nothing behind, not even movement. The wad of credit just out there, openly offered. 

If not to Dolorosa, then to Sayrii Maryam. 

Plainly as she could she took the roll from the Olive, who smiled and bowed her head.

It felt like it should be her doing the bowing oddly, as the Jade realized just how much money she'd been handed. Not enough for parts here but more than enough they could search elsewhere. "Thank you." She clicked softly as she stowed the roll of currency in her pocked.

"No, thank you. For everything you did." The Olive named Laisae turned without another word, before Dolorosa could even think of a response. Murmurs of thanks and apologies from the remaining cultists, aside the tall silent one who simply tilted their head, turning and leaving after the Olive.

Sayrii was all too aware of the stares behind her, as she was left alone in the darkening street. That vacancy of noise bringing a conscious dread as one listener had, no doubt, heard everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes. That chapter a while back was the worst struggle to get a chapter out ever.
> 
> Thank you, me, for proving me wrong again. You nega-ghoul'looking-beach. 
> 
> Not going to jink myself but I'm in a way better place to put out stuff now. I will finish this or I will die in the process.


	8. The Colour Eater's Tale

( ♍︎ ) Bar the stiltedness of their very first spoken conversation, Sayrii could scarcely remember a more nakedly awkward silence. 

Even from before, only a few came close. Trying to give Kadarn and Libaax the 'talk', the following nights after the detente with Psiioniic, the dusk after that first harrowing encounter that almost got them caught. But in all of those there were obvious albeit uncomfortable 'outs.' Not that there wasn't an 'out' here, it was just too big to even begin tackling. To say nothing of how long it had gone untouched fully, avoiding memories was instinctive at this point, the logic beaten into her by her own necessity. 

Since they'd stepped back into the apartment not a word had been said between the two of them. The Jade drifting through the evening routine half-there. It all kept winding back, a lack of context could leave a Troll who hadn't been hatched on Alternia at a complete loss. To say nothing of all the difficulties an alien could run into. 

Of course, Sayrii's Other Half was probably one of the more mindful humans, uniquely exposed and receptive to such things. Yet she couldn't pin where to begin, Dolorosa finding herself continuously half-starting, remembering a contrivance and stopping. Over and over on the love seat, hunched over and unable to do much else but run a stray claw over the rim of her empty glass. Look occasionally flitting up to Gael before dropping again.

Her human was completely unreadable. Almost...

Whole looking, the Shawl covered her barren shoulder well enough. Long skirt and boots from the day still worn. With her eyes closed if one wasn't paying attention it was possible to pass. A world of difference compared to when they'd first met. For Sayrii though, it all came apart when Gael opened her eyes, the clouded blue colouration sticking out equal to any crimson. Leaned up against the small table, the human tilted her head working ear tipped to the Jade.

Sayrii couldn't find it in herself to say anything. look falling to her own bare feet and her empty glass. 

Gael audibly snorted, a clink of glass coming as she put her empty tea mug down on the table beside her. "Good spearmint." She murmured to herself more than to the Jade. Stepping lightly forward, extending her hand. Sayrii handed off the empty glass, a clink coming as cup was put aside. 

Gael stood there for a long moment. Less waiting, more likely listening as Dolorosa attempted to try not to sound like a nervous joke of a Troll. Probably failing in that.

Her words came at a low whisper. "We kind of need to talk Rosa."

"Yes. Yes we do." The Jade managed to creak.

"But this is something you really don't want to talk about. Right?"

"No... I mean... Yes but..." Dolorosa clicked looking up. Gael's face was impassive, forced flat as she listened. "I buried it mentally so it couldn't be used against me. But-" Her voice cracked, she kept going. "Even when I could think on it I-" Again her voice failed her. She wanted to growl. "I just-" She did growl, directed at herself but low and venomous.

At this point though, Gael didn't even flinch at the noise. "Is there anything I could do that would make this easier for you?"

The Jade shook her head. Resisting the urge to scream in frustration as she realized what she'd done, her voice failing her outright again. Gael listened on a moment before pulling away, carefully pacing over to the front door and pulling off her boots. Then turning, stepping lightly to the radio in the corner of the room. She turned the small machine on, immediately turning the volume down to a low ambiance. Satisfied, she turned back.

With all the subtly of an impudent purrbeast the human walked over and sat herself on Dolorosa's lap.

"If you don't want to talk, or if it hurts to even get into? We don't have to. I get it. I get trying to explain things you can't explain." Her small prodding hand found the Jade's, weaving into her grasp and holding on tightly as she continued. "I do love you though Maryam. More than anything and if this is such a big thing? I want to know about it. I don't know what I can to help you if I'm in the dark. I can't help if this thing finds you again."

"It's just..." Discomfort and inability boiled away, though the feeling of both remained. Dolorosa found her voice again. "It is just this immedicable miserable joke dearest. Going so long before you were even hatched it is absurd you should... It shouldn't burden you." 

"I want to help. If nothing else I can share it, be there beside you in it."

"I don't even know where to begin." 

"At the start?" Gael asked.

"Recreant Void." Dolorosa's free arm wrapped around her other half as she tried to dissect it. The start with black egg? The start with that long lost patron? The start of Sayrii? She clicked softly at the morbid thought, though she'd long half-realized that might be necessary. "The start of all of this goes back ages. Back to my beginning really, to make sense of it. We'll be here into tomorrow if I try to cover everything from that."

"It doesn't need to be so specific, but I would like to know everything. You don't have work tomorrow. And you have me as long as you need me."

"Are you sure?"

"Your baggage is my baggage, Rosa."

The way she said it, it made the Jade wince softly. An old Jade didn't deserve her affection. "Alright." 

Back. Back to the start. Dolorosa let out a soft breath as she leaned back into the seat. Memory was a strange thing, conscious effort needed to ease, relaxing defenses for a threat that was now gone. But, that was the weight of seventy-two sweeps of chattel. It all rolled back slowly with deliberate effort, to those... _Dimmed early sights, before words and all hazed in fog. The soft pale stone world, lit by archaic brass lamps. The heavy smell of oil and grub, both maternal and fledgling. Scents only realized when she'd left it all behind._

"I was hatched and wriggled in a remote breeding cavern deep within the western wastes, a small system of tunnels tended to by some of the oldest Jades on Alternia. Entrusted with the care of mother grubs and and the processing of grubs. A practice that preceded any empire. My home in particular had a long tradition, so much so that Elders still spoke the deep tongue, Kaernyxn. The language had preceded the current Empire. But by the time I molted it was near dead and the only thing youths like myself learned were curses and apologies. I picked up a few words, but I was ignorant to the weight of the history." _How to describe it to someone who had grown beneath a gentle sun? An existence defined by the starved clinging darkness and small skittering things._ "It was my home. Where my caste were tasked with that simple ancient task, one I payed little mind to. Those caverns darling? They were older than some of your people's civilizations. But I cared not for history. Those confines, that world trapped in a box..." 

"I was a... problem wiggler in many ways. Loud, energetic. Needlessly hopeful. I lacked restraint, to the point where when I came of age I was allowed to wander above on the surface for a time. If only to rid the elders of me for a handful of sweeps. Or perhaps to rid them of me altogether, even if the Empire dominated Alternia and had done so for what was human Millenia, the surface was terribly dangerous. Even to a Jade." _Their hides had been so black they blended in with the onyx regalia and the shadows, eyes dimmed with age, some reddened with blindness. A pointed finger, a singular 'offer.'_

 _But that exultation?_ It crept out again, and Sayrii found herself smiling as she remembered speeding off to gather her things. _Sorting through, grabbing everything she had, a little of what wasn't hers. Confused questions, excited answers. Stilted partings. Wishes of luck and little useful gifts. That feeling growing. All the way to the exit._ "I didn't see it like that, I was so eager to get out of the caverns I stepped out with only a single bag on my shoulder, my saw blade and the clothes on my back." 

_How sharp the contrast was, from confinement to being overwhelmed. Black sand and a world with a ceiling impossibly distant. Legs aching, hunger, thirst, all familiar but never dimming the drive. Splashes of warm colour, clenched fangs. Fear, that dimmed it, for times. But always rebounding. The bite of the needle weaving ink into her hide, the warmth in her face at unfamiliar sights, the sensation of a nose breaking under her fist. The reverse. So much in such little time, at least, in the grand scale._ How dense Alternia had been then, in hindsight. "I saw so much in those sweeps. Cities home to hundreds of millions that just went on and on for nights to pass. Deserts that stretched across continents. Ancient groves older than the Empire, older than some of the preceding empires twisting up with entire settlements in their brambles. Trolls of all castes, a hundred more creeds. Imperial sanctioned or otherwise. But I kept to myself, always eager to stay on the road, at least until I met..." 

_He offers water, in spite of looking half dead. A moment spent in confusion before realizing the blood isn't his. Still would have died is she hadn't arrived in time. And yet-_ "Well, I met my first pale crush out there on the road, another Jade called Offnan. Still technically in wriggling though he grew out quickly. He'd escaped his home caverns only a little after he had pupated and had made his way out across Alternia as soon as he could. Spending his youth wandering errantly. He was shrewd, brave, over-confident, but kind before everything else. A trait that almost got him culled a fair number of times." _That first feeling of protectiveness._ It took her smile as surely as it had given. Once back when. "He was a good man."

 _Winding down. Those burning hives, ships roaring overhead loud enough to deafen a Troll. Treating injuries, inked skin split dying her fingers in Jade. Forced into daylight, carrying the full weight of baking heat and light that would blind others. But they were strong enough to resist it._ Sayrii shook her head. "I wandered beside him for a good few sweeps before my wigglerish eagerness started to fail. Dearest, there was such squalor and suffering out there on Alternia. If one wasn't careful you could just be driven to despair and maddness. Lowbloods butchered in the streets for even the most minor of offences, pestilence and destitution everywhere, no one ever able to rise above it. This vicious cycle that no one, no caste above the water endured. But Offnan never let it break him. When I started to weaken he passed along the sort of thinking that let me do the same. That the void might hunger and that the world might grow terrible, but with a kept warmth all the poisons would never take you. No matter how vile it was." _He foolishly promises everything for another, not even a quadrant. That feeling again. She promises the same and buries her feelings._ "That sort of thinking kept me sane, stronger than anything Offnan received of it. At least until my time in chattel." 

_Familiarity, in spite of everything else being different. A sense of exhaustion that suffused the person as no physical fatigue could. Different step though, firmer, more cautious. Different form, hardened and coloured in marks willing and unwillingly taken. Scars and Ink. Weary processes, ways of thinking that survival brought. But all with a form beside. As certain as the stone beneath them. Wouldn't dare hope to say it, for fear of ruining it. But still, grateful. He claps her on the shoulder giggling to himself that he's somehow found himself heading this way._

"When I returned to the caverns I'd been reared within Offnan came with me. He told me to try and teach other Jade wigglers and the few other grubs that remained his... Way of doing things. It would be easier than the big industrialized cavern he'd been hatched in, or so he said. I was just glad he wouldn't get himself killed out there without me to drag him off and sew him back into a functional state." _The stone ceiling swallows up the bright light behind. Startled looks and that familiar lamp borne glow. A feeling that Dolorosa had never felt before, a welcoming she'd realized. It felt like 'home.' Passing, things shifting back to what had been, without the impudence of the past, a respect for history. Understanding the weight of it. Alternia was so terrible, but there was enough to do. Contentedness. For a time._

Her lips curled up into a smile again. "We we're quite a pair. Though, his eagerness made me look like a bitter dame by comparison. I would certainly say I was harsh in some ways, though I wasn't anything compared to the Elders. Such contrast likely paved the way for my name; Dolorosa." 

"The dreadful shadow that every wiggling Jade came to dread, much to the satisfaction of the cave Elders."

Gael's hand tightened up in hers. "Did Offnan ever get a given name?"

Bad blood, that was a long time ago, two full lifetimes. _Ending with another._ "I don't know. If he did, it was not in our time together." _That was later, in the fallout. Before, back to the monotony, the small figures and grubs and Jades and terrible mother grubs. Offnan is levity, she finds herself a hammer. Coming down on the elders as much as foolish youths._ "Time passed different in the breeding caverns to what it did on the surface and like it does on earth. We measured it in the birthing cycles of the Mother Grubs. They had reliable shifts in their biology as certain as any mechanical clock, and would always intake genetic grease and lay eggs in bulk twice a sweep. You could predict it to the hour, sometimes to the minute if you knew the Mother Grub well enough. We found ourselves back into that system. I was a proper Cavern Matron before I even realized it, Offnan a proper Patron as sweeps rolled onward. Though we never lost the sparks we'd had in youth." _The egg, black. Swallowing torchlight in her soiled hand._ "When... When it ended with with..." _Crimson._

Dolorosa winced, feeling her matesprite's attentive silence acutely weighing on her. Had to put it into proper words. Couldn't mince this.

She cleared her voice, _drawing back to that near empty cavern, the Mother Grub the size of a human bus croaking and snarling at them but without much weight, the ichorous stench, skirt rolled up, shoes off. Both smiling, able to cope._ "I remember it almost perfectly. At the back end of the second Dim season, at the end of the day when all but the ones with duties had returned to their pods. One of the oldest Mother Grubs had finished laying what the Elders predicted was her last clutch. They're laid in caste order, saltbleeds first, then nobles, midbloods, lowbloods and then the 'discharge' of the process. This vile gunk of pure black mixed with the remnants of crushed eggs and malformed grub faetii. Caliga, we called it. Vile but certain nobles treated it like fine wine. Processed of course, the cold bloods never had to handle it raw." 

Dolorosa scoffed, remembering. _It was closest to the inorganic oils some Rusts and eccentric nobles used in machinery, thick and difficult to clear, scrapping with shovels and mops. Not all of it, could never get all of it. But most of it. The smell gets everywhere, at this point more a nuisance than the substance itself, solid and filled with half dissolved shells and bits of unhatchable grub._ "All the eggs had been gathered well before we'd even arrived, leaving Offnan and I to clean up the Caliga beside this ancient dying Mother Grub. She snapped at the wigglers who normally did the work whenever they got close, leaving the job to us. 'Twas miserable work that required a strong stomach, but we managed beside this old dying creature, well enough I whistled to myself. At least until we found... Him."

"Him?"

"My..." Dolorosa murmured as she thought how best to describe it. _That affection, from the moment his shell cracked._ Ironically with the little alien in her lap the answer was easier than it had ever been for Trolls. "In human terms, I think you would call him my 'son.' To say how close I was to him, my relation." _It all hazed back._ "I can just see it in my head like it was yesterday. The way a pile of Caliga just- jiggled. No eggs were found in the Caliga, the filth was too toxic and acidic for eggs to survive. In the ancient days untreated Caliga was thought to be liquid hatred. But... Something was moving in the grotesque blackness. Energetically too, out of nowhere. Offnan yelped, almost scared the skirt off him." 

"Not even parasites survived in it, and before I even thought about it I'd rolled up my sleeves and stared digging to dislodge the moving thing. That egg. It had been sheltered from the Caliga by malformed grub carcasses clumping around it. This tiny blackened egg. Before we even realized what we were looking at it hatched, right there in my hands. Out came the loudest little grub on Alternia." _Doesn't have a smidgen of ichor on him, immediately half panicking and pulling him into the safe crease of her elbow, so he doesn't end up giving himself chemical sickness. Stepping back, Offnan following. The yipping isn't pain, or even hunger. They're attention yips, the little one clings on. So very small._ "Bad blood he would have fit in the palm of your hand Gael he was so small, but already yipping and squeaking like a hive of stingbats." _That feeling. That lusus feeling. Need to keep him safe. Had to keep him safe._ "Even before I cleaned him, it was obvious he was red blooded. Human red blooded, if not a shade brighter. An impossibility within an impossibility."

"What's the deal with crimson?"

"Bright crimson blood is the only colour without representation on the haemospectrum. Minor mutations would always affiliate with a Caste, a few tones up or down isn't enough to get anyone culled. Rust, Bronze, Gold, Olive, Lime, Jade, Teal, Cobalt, Blue, Indigo, Salt-Purple and Imperial Fuschia. Crimson was the colour of dissent and firebrands, rebellion and insurrection. Tolerated on nobles of extreme taste or ferocious demeanor, wearing it on a lowblood was grounds for execution. A symbol of those who would take arms against the empire like the ancient Huntropacks and Maryannunders." _The explanation comes as it rushes back. Parting ways, hushed words. Covering the little one in a blanket and rushing back to her room as fast as she could. One of the few benefits to her position without drawbacks. Privacy. He doesn't make it any easier, only the late hour keeps them undiscovered they way he squeaks._ "Of course, neither of us even knew a crimson grub was even possible when we found that egg. No more than what to do with him. But I could not leave well enough alone. So I scuttled him back off to my quarters while Offnan went to the archives to try and find some precedent."

_Finally stops, eyes focused up on her. Crimson and black, but not cold like some grubs. Warm, aware. Affectionate, already bunting at her fingers and nuzzling up against her nails. It lets her ignore the growing uncertainty, the absence of Offnan. He's absolutely precious._

"I cleaned the little thing, fed him and got him to sleep. And as unwise as it was, I gave him a name." 

"Kadarn." Dolorosa fell still, uncertain for a moment if she'd just imagined it. Gael also silent, fidgeting and filling the void after a moment. "That was his name, right?"

It felt like she'd taken a misstep off of a very tall ledge. That emptiness. "How did you-" 

"I'd heard it kicked around. Always in a context. I figured-" Gael stopped, rolling herself fully into the Jade's embrace in a way that made her feel uneasy. Not like the normal discomfort, this was tentative. On another Sayrii might even call it fearful. "I didn't have the courage to ask. If it was nothing it'd be a waste of your time. If it was something? I figured it wasn't something you'd want to get dropped on you out of nowhere."

"Well." Sayrii murmered. "It had to be done at some time. You deserve the truth more than anyone. I'd just wished I could have you at your full before I shared. I..."

"It's fine." A little louder, confident again. Couldn't tell if it was a facade though.

Right now she couldn't really afford to dwell on it. With a sigh Dolorosa closed her eyes. _Returning back to that terrible day._ "Alright. Then that brings us back to Kadarn." _Takes a while to put him into a pile, even in sleep the little thing manages to hold on, wrapped around her finger and stubbornly refusing to let go. When it is done, she heads out, locking the door behind and moving as fast and noiselessly as she can. Heart thumping in her chest all the way down. Blood in her ears putting her on edge._ "After I'd gotten him to sleep and safely hidden I went off to find Offnan. He'd searched through the archives and found nothing but bad news. Crimson grubs were believed to have occurred in the past, but through genetic cleansing and rigorous culling, they did not exist anymore. Officially, at least. And if one was found? It would be made to not exist, as it was an affront to the hierarchies of the Imperial doctrine. The personal notes of the Elders suggested a pot cull as the 'most merciful' option for a crimson. For a grub too weak to survive you would simply lower the poor thing into a pot of heavy gas, fast and relatively painless for a grub." 

She hissed softly, _those words still evoking that same contempt and disgust as they did once. He's just relaying information but she can't help it._ "I couldn't though. The thought of hurting him made me angry, he wasn't born malformed, he wasn't already already dying. He was just- bright red. Healthy, one of the few that would certainly molt. I couldn't even imagine what I would do as I had no options. Breeding caverns had entire imperial garrisons waiting outside, as much to ensure the Jades caused no trouble as much no trouble could find the caverns. I knew the Elders and most of the others would do what they 'had to do' if they found out Kadarn existed and push came to shove."

"So what did you do?"

"Offnan had a plan. One he'd 'had on the simmer' for a long while, he said, in case he ever had to leave. We prepared for only a night, all the supplies, everything I could need to go back into the wilds and survive. Furnishing, tool, blade and thread. While he needed only a single bucket filled with Caliga. I didn't understand why until I realized it would be me and Kadarn escaping alone." _The way he says it stills the worry. He has it too, that softness for the tiny little grub. That reassuring tone he could work up no matter how terrible it looked. They're in it again, at each other's sides. Though both know it is for this moment._ "The way he put it, there was no way we'd 'both get out together,' so it was better that he make sure I escaped with certainty." _'He was always like this,' she says. 'But,' he says, 'you're just the same. Maybe worse, since she pulled the wiggler out.' Trust, all this, in an instant. For the grub sleeping soundly in the bundle she held._

"He spoke the way he always did, confident and reassuring. Just the same, so I trusted him and I let him go. I watched hiding from the Cavern entrance as he just- walked into the middle of the encampment, up the tower to where the camp's commander was watching things. Offnan requested to speak to him, and he climbed up to the seablood. Then he took the bucket, and hit the commander in the face with its contents." _She's never heard a troll scream that high, and Dolorosa has worked with wigglers and little pupated Jades for sweeps._ "I remember the poor purple's yelp as he'd fallen backwards and tipped right off the tower, vomiting and tangled up in his own cape as Offnan shouted every curse he had at the poor fool and his lusus." _The guards are staring agape as Dolorosa is, a couple hoot, but already comes the glint of drawn sharpened chitin. Follow through, out of the cave, into the sweltering dusk._ "I got out without so much as a scratch and unseen while the entire garrison site caught fire behind me. Offnan exacting havoc as much as he could." 

"I never learned what happened to Offnan. I assume they just... culled him there and then, or he killed himself, before they had the chance. I looked for what happened, but I found nothing."

"I appreciate his moxy."

"I figured you would." The Jade clicked.

 _All the same, the softening winds of a fresh night. The low groan of mushroom trunks and the swaying of grass. The wilds still clinging to life coming to life around her. Wanted to say something. Didn't. But they'd both stepped into it, the Jade clenches her fangs and quickens her pace._ "I remember well that first night the best, half of it spent making my way off fast as I could, then looking for a cave when I knew I was far enough away. Alternia was old, much older than Terra. Filled with caves that let one survive out in the wilderness with those blistering days. All those sweeps prior of vagabonding like a brigand came back in hours. In some ways it was like I never left. The wilds did not know of change and time like Trolls or humans. They just were." 

_Familiarity. Keeping herself together, he wouldn't appreciate empty tears or pointless words._ "It all blurs together, those early nights, cave to cave, mountain to grove. With only this yippy little grub for company. Kadarn was probably the most vocal grub I'd ever seen, squeaking at just about everything. The most empathetic grub too. One time I stubbed my toe and he almost tore a leg off jumping over to me. A terrible pain at times but," _Cooing, chirps. Probably the only grub she'd ever seen fall asleep in her hands._ "I loved him. Much as a guardian could care for their ward."

She paused, as much to breathe as to allow Gael a second. Her human shifting a little. "So how long did you stick it out in the wilds?"

"Until his pupation. Kadarn grew in small and slow, likely deprived of nutrients as he was forming in the Caliga. Grubdom has its end regardless. When he started showing signs he was going to pupate I started off to a town. I needed to make sure he was clothed immediately, I'd scavenged some small wealth off in the wilds and could also make sure food and small things were taken care of. But most of all I needed a truly safe place. When a troll pupates they'll submerse themselves in a silken ball for what would be several Terran days, and in that state they're even more fragile than a grub is. I did find a town, and a safe place. Far from perfect as it was. A Lusii stable and a job cleaning at a bordello to support it." An odd hackled noise stopped her Other Half. "Gael?" 

"Fine. Great. No, this is a human- thing. Concerning stables and theology. Continue, please ignore that." She tersely grunted. 

The Jade blinked. Stables? Humans had strange connotations with the oddest things. She silently nodded. _Drawing instead back. To the dim heavy aired place. To the staring pale eyes and the cocoon. Too small to be healthy, she did her best but it is impossible to say if it will be enough. Until..._ "It must have been two weeks on this world's measurements I spent waiting with naught but those guardian beasts to keep me company, anxiously running back and forth from work and keeping away from others. The company of Lusii was perhaps the best I could ask for, they did not bother us and there came a point where I felt equal among them. After that harrowing wait, in spite of all my worries, Kadarn emerged healthy and wholesome. As soon as he could walk, we fled. Back to the wilds." 

_He's like others, in that the basis was all there before. He's still loud, he's still small and he still cares. Over affectionate is putting it bluntly. Bar the most basic covers it's also impossible not to indulge him. It's not like the Jade's back in the caverns, there is a closeness to it. As close as a Lusus to their ward._ Though seated here, Dolorosa found herself acutely aware the bond was deeper. A Lusus would always move on, and being drawn back there remained a... Weight. _She'd do anything for him._ "He grew in with more vitality than I'd dared dream of, aside from his height he was just as able as any troll his age, perhaps a little more so. Or perhaps that was a product of his eagerness. Kadarn harbored a curiosity that had been lit in him early and never failed him. It wasn't like my stoicism or like Offnan's learned resistance. Alternia was just never able to break him, he was always indefatigable. Forward, open, quick-witted. A good person, though I did have to guide him. Remind him of danger, learned him in the art of struggle, survival and escape. He learned well, although I could never rid him of his..." _He fully squeeps as she tosses him into the pond. A moment of silence. Then he surfaces and it is gone again._ "Voluminous in speech."

"Mouthy?" Gael snickered.

Dolorosa manged a dry laugh. "Terribly, but I think I put it into positive work. Oration. He caught on very early, thinking he could do much if he was able to make people listen. When I prompted him of course. Recreant Void he could have become insufferable if he'd been left to his own devices. I gave him everything he would need to survive in the wastes as well as indulging his speaking. The only thing he never really figured out was how to use was the needle. He could almost be as bad as..." _Dazed. Bruised. Half dead. Olive eye wide._ "No. Too early." 

_Withdrawing, further. Small decisive motions, boy keeps skittering about. Bigger, still doesn't look his age, but there is nothing more that she can do about that. Focus on the now, none of those idle fancies. That is his dominion._

"At first, it was just the two of us, in those early sweeps of wiggling when he was most vulnerable. But there came a point when we found- No, back when she found us." _Starting to suspect maybe it isn't an over-active imagination. Movement, just on the fringes. Would like to be away from the greenery but beyond there were too many patrols. A whole exarchate of priests._ "Kadarn would have been up to your waist then, height wise. It started when I noticed him vanishing after gloamfast, just for a few minutes after the meal, no worse for wear. I ignored it at first, but as time went on it didn't stop. I asked him on it and he thought we'd been followed by someone who 'looked hungry.' 'He thought' was what he said and though I scolded him for it I could never crack down on it outright." _Dread, all too familiar with a pitch she'd never experienced before. Alone amidst crumbling grey stone walls, that monster wearing a Troll's skin giggling to itself._

"Well. Kadarn's little friend ended up saving us, I remember..." _The void never gleefully accepted petitions for redress. Can barely believe the twisted laughter is diminishing as she picks him up._ "Finding ourselves trapped in a ruined hive with no way out. We'd run astray a lone Indigo hunter who had stumbled on our path, and he'd stalked us almost the full night. I made a terrible error, and there was no way out, we were cornered. I'd thought it was over for the both of us." _'Why?'_ "There'd been this awful noise out in the brush, away from us, like someone cracking Bitelet crabs on the rocks. The hunter gave up on us, and we managed to get away." _Dazed. Bruised. Half beaten to death. Olive eye wide. The other a sliver under the swelling. How terribly bold she was for one so young._

"The next dusk she came to us. Not much taller than Kadarn with a face so bruised she couldn't even see out of her one eye. My darling little Libaax. Brave as any wild Lusus when she was roused. Caring as much the same in kind company. She'd saved us." _Could make noises like a cornered terror when she needed to. But otherwise? Terribly quite for a troll her age. Same protectiveness, but different. She's able enough, she's made her own decisions. But still coming to care,_ like a human for their young. "She'd either lost her guardian, or had never been taken by one in the first place. Half feral with barely a word in her when she came to us, I took her in then and there. I like to think Kadarn gave her some of his speaking as he mellowed with age. Not that she was dim, far from it. Libaax took to script like a saltbleed to water. Simply could never scrub the wilderness out of her, for better or worse." 

"How did you learn her name?"

"When a troll is hatched and dropped out from the caverns they'd be fixed with a chip that identifies them. Moulting names were given by lottery from a databank, while genetic names and symbols were drawn from the greater genetic archives based on closeness. The chip is organic and dissolves after about five sweeps, but by that point a troll will be able to get the knowledge on their name, ancestry and symbol." _She holds Kadarn's hand as the Jade checks. Mewling anxiously all the while._ "I found her proper name when I brought her into the cave, after I looked after her injuries. Libaax Leijon. That chip was just about the only thing she had on her besides hair and a rag that might have been a shirt." _This little one purrs loud as an engine from a good scratch under the ears and turns trusting. Delighting in some things that Kadarn never did._ The Jade found herself unable to suppress a small laugh. "Hm. She was a much better model than Kadarn. A delight to have aside the occasional startling where she would just squeak without a hint of volume control and the times she'd climb trees she couldn't get down from. Time kowtowed the latter, but never fully the former." 

Out there, somewhere. The thought stripped her smile.

"What was her given name?"

_'My little Libaax.'_

The Jade sighed. "Disciple."

She pressed on. _They grew. One more than the other. The Olive could loom over the Crimson, though she never did._ "Kadarn was the speaker, the dreamer. Libaax became his shadow, willing to protect him and write down his words. His first 'Disciple.' Even when they were small, it was obvious Kadarn and Libaax shared a connection. It started out as a petty flushcrush between them but as time went on..." _Intolerably inseparable. Always having the other's back._ "They completed each other. They could bash horns sure as any black pairing, ease to a grey reconciliation to something pale. Beside one another their already excessive bravery turned harder than anything. They were willing to struggle against all of Alternia." _Backs against the wall, murmurs on the one side and a low sleep tinted growl on the other. That sinking sensation. Questioning herself and unable to commit to an answer. Aside from what she'd committed to._ "I realized early how poorly it could all end even then when we found her. I remember having a youth on either side of me sleeping and thinking about what would come of them. Of us. But... I was happy for them. To have them. To be with them. It let me ignore the consequences." 

_How quickly they grew. No longer wigglers. Trolls in their own right._

_Know well enough she can't talk him out of it. Stubborn, got that from her. Libaax beside clicking it will be alright. Her gaze isn't long though. Can't hold it against her. Brave foolish youths._ "They were almost fully reared when it began in full. Kadarn's speaking. In spite of all the close calls and the people he'd seen perish, some close some strangers while others almost friends, Kadarn could not stand Alternia's state. He clawed a line on the stone, he would never willingly kill another, always try to find a better way. He saw a better Alternia, one he believed in. Believed in Trolls, that they could do better. That," She paused, forming the word on her tongue, trying to catch the right description. "That idealism of his, it was special. Trolls, high and lowblood suffer a short nearsightedness. Though it pains me to admit it the Empress did not possess that, she had dreams. She imagined the day-terror that Alternia became and the Empire that stretched to Earth's sky. She made that abomination a reality. Kadarn dreamed of a world none of us could see. Literally, in some cases, in those strange dreams of his." _Crying. Over a 'dayterror' at his age. Not of what it represents but what it could be. Ridiculous but..._

"Of an Alternia without castes, built on trust, fraternity and kindness." Her laugh was bitter. "Terribly silly isn't it?"

"That kind of makes me feel bad." The shake was half-suppressed. But the Jade felt it come from the core. "Like- considering the Empire and Alternia and how it was it- wouldn't change. It would be almost impossible."

"Considering Alternia is now scattered across the solar system in chunks, yes."

She as much as human could. "No I mean as in... It's almost impossible to depose an Empire without bloodshed and building a good society. I just- that optimism makes me feel..." Not fearful, but anxious, undone by the notion maybe.

Sometimes, it was difficult to remember Gael was a killer. Sinking back into the seat Dolorosa released Gael's hand and fully embraced her. Odder to think of her Other Half as a Troll slayer when she cuddled up against the Jade, who could only sigh. "Yes. I tried my hardest to impress upon him the magnitude of the task and what the Empire could do to him. But, so long as there was but a single chance in all his strange dreams he could make a difference, just a step towards that future he dreamt of? He gladly walked it. With Libaax and I willingly behind. When it became apparent I couldn't convince him, I promised to follow him to the very end." _Worry, constantly worried. Nothing to do about it. Constantly moving. Sights familiar, city works, endless wastes. New sights though, coast-lines and gilled frowns. She's about to pull her own hair own when he's finally proven right. Kadarn and that odd spine toothed creature. Smiling and shaking hands. Gone in the next night, bad blood she feels like her blood pusher's about to give out when they finally depart._

_He's an equal now, though in some ways she'll always be their ward. Her Liibax just as much as Kadarn. But they're both grown now, able to make their own decisions, their own path. Still following, falling into as much a militant role as a guarding one. Kadarn only got the basics, but Libaax could be very dangerous. It might have broken the Jade's heart if she hadn't had that same light in her eyes. The same smile, her little one remains and able to survive._ "It was a slow start, fraught with worry and resistance, but every heckler strengthened Kadarn. He responded to input, and as long as it did not compromise the core of his vision Kadarn would devour those ideas and words posed against him. I watched as the youth I'd spent sweeps raising from his very hatching turned into the finest speaker I've ever heard." _'Does that sound alright?' He asks, like he hasn't just said things that could get his head taken off his body. But..._ "You could close your eyes, and it would feel like that world he spoke of would come. One night, like it could have been. Like everything would be alright." 

Gael didn't say anything, nodding with a heavy frown. How much had she known? Where had she heard it from?

Or... Was that beside the point? This was direct as it could be, who knew what rumors were out there? Shrouded in her journey to the Impudent Arachnid.

Continue. Back, back to _that night, the dull green hood and the furious glow beneath it._ "The last member of what had been 'us' started as one of his most fervent detractors. A hooded man who hissed and spat all sorts of vitriol at Kadarn. The possibility of Trolls getting violent had been a great worry for me. It put us on the move faster than we'd ever been, the worst sort of tempo where we were always on some sort of steam-wain switching rail-lines thrice a night. Bad Blood, Libaax and I shattered a few dozen noses between us when we had to. The moment I saw him in that ragged hood that hid his eyes I realized he would be a problem. But he was different to the others, they gave up, fled, turned about grumbling. Some were won over. But this one kept at it. Oh, what Kadarn said infuriated that man to no end, but the way he fought back... It wasn't just one sermon, he followed us for half a hundred, as if Kadarn had personally offended him. 

"Maybe he had and that hooded Troll was driven to prove him wrong. Every night, every time Kadarn spoke, he arrived in tow. He kept at it for almost a perigee trying to worm into Kadarn's convictions. Yet he never did, and there came a point when Kadarn started using him as a springboard for his ideals. He was reliable as the cycle of the moons." _His lisp shines through when he gets angrier, it might almost be cute if the anxiety and the pulsing psionic glow weren't giving her an ulcer. Glad to be free of him, glad to be back to the wilds until-_ "It got to the point where one dawn I was preparing the cave entrance and I'd stepped out for one last check of things. He'd settled just outside the cave and I almost stepped on him! And it was as if he was a different person all together he was so apologetic." _Like a repentant youth,_ the Jade smiled.

Gael filled in the last hole. "Psiioniic."

"Yes. Our Jiixan Captor." Dolorosa chuckled. "I had to half drag him in with dawn fringing the horizon, I might have some resistance to sunlight but he'd have caught fire or suffered a heat death. Immediately he'd turned back into the heckler when he saw Kadarn, but it had gotten weak. Beside our fire in the depths of that cave the 'heckler' finally broke." _Break was a light way of putting it, he came apart at the seams, a man without any grounding. Without a core. Kadarn never left his side, even after everything the Heckler had said. For all his words Kadarn had been honest when he'd called him 'brood.'_ "Jiixan had seen the horrors of the Imperial Navy first hand and had only barely escaped powering a ship for the rest of an extended lifespan. He'd seen just how cruel the Empress's servants could be. How apathetic the once ambitious empress had grown. How the bloated monstrous empire had turned into a perpetual monster that couldn't even degrade, its own bloated mass growing fast enough to fill any break or tear. How could one possibly defeat the sum of the empire without killing every one of those monsters leading it?" 

"Everything he threw at Kadarn, Kadarn was able to counter and when dusk finally came Jiixan looked like half a troll." _He gives him a hug, the poor psion's mental breakdown almost re-ignites before he passes out._ "He ended up joining us, grumbling about how a highblood was going to step on Kadarn if he didn't stick around. Stubborn more than anything, he butted horns with all of us oft but... He was a good man. One of the few I ever tinged red for, though nothing ever came of it."

 _That time once... That perfect time if there had ever been one._ "Those three were my core and my whole world dearest. There were others, but they came and left, first a handful, but as the sweeps went on a veritable tide found its way to us. To Kadarn and his hopes." _It becomes second nature to have her hand up on her blade, particularly with the bigger crowds where individual Trolls stop existing, joining the mass of grey and black hair dotted with glowing eyes. Rarely relax, never break. Always waiting to get them moving again while her boy works his magic, shifting a crowd of nervous and fearful trolls into something else. So many small victories, Kadarn's reassurances dulling the worst of their paranoia but occasionally she hears him talking to Libaax and Jiixan. Sees them tell easier, neither having his particular brand of relentlessness. Shadows of sleeplessness under their eyes._ "I think all of us realized that it would end one day. Not- not by natural means but-" Her voice failed her for a moment, the Jade coughed as her other half shifted.

"By the trident." She couldn't help but flinch. "Sorry. I just remember those fucking symbols. Down on earth when I was in the fight a bunch of the higher ups decked themselves with them. Always at the back, always fucking setting the push. Always had guns."

"It is apt terming I suppose. We tried, everyone of us to postpone the inevitable. Kadarn in spite of everyone trying to convince him he'd have to fight refused. War wouldn't be enough, it wouldn't ever be enough to change Trolls, unless trolls themselves changed by their own volition. Casting off the vestments and shackles the empire put in their minds as much as the real metal ones. Holding himself to that almost impossible standard he never deviated from. It made him strong, yet," Her voice cracked again though she forced herself through, aware of her own growing hoarseness. "He turned down so many plans and trolls behind them because it would lead to death, it was- grueling. So many close calls and traps we circled and escaped by the skin of our fangs. Yet everyone stuck with him, his following just kept growing, because we all still believed in him and his future. So many, lowblood and high. There came a point when he spoke to thousands every time we stopped."

 _Armoured bootsteps breaking on stone floors. The cavern is alive and beating with them in an instant._ "All of it came apart in a single night. A trap, likely abetted by treason, caught us. It felt like the Imperial agents had sprouted up like mold in the shadows. I fought harder than I ever did but it was like fighting the rising ocean. Jiixan went down in the first moments with them forcing a psi-lock on him, Kadarn was bagged before I could even shout and Libaax took just-" _The crack is loud enough she's terrified they just killed her outright._ "She was buried under a wave of armoured nobles. As was I. Everyone else was killed." A hard forced breath stopped words and recollections. She kept going. _That manic dread the first thing that found her, drawing her back._ "I can't properly describe what it was like waking up in a cell, alone and with my ankle chained to the wall. I waited for hours with only my thoughts and my own noise. Not knowing what had happened was just dreadful." Her breath spiked again. _Dreadful, one eye swollen, the other bleeding. But still not-_ "Bad blood."

Dolorosa forced herself forward, feeling a sudden disgust as she was aware her matesprite was holding her now as she felt herself slowly coming apart. Trying to put it off and bury it. "Hmf, It was an age but it feels like it was last sweep in some ways. It's clear. Some door slamming open out of sight. The highblood dragging Kadarn into view, torch the only real light I'd had since I'd woken." "He looked like he'd just pilfered a few sugar cubes in terms of remorse. Not like they'd just..." Her voice failed her. The Jade growled softly.

"I did what I could for him, and we waited for whatever would come." Another forced breath, clearing her mind.

"An... Example. Right?" Always walking in his shadow, though perhaps she'd been aware of that. More than Dolorosa given the human credit for.

"Yes. A torment until a grandiose declaration of his annulled broken beliefs came. So every Troll that he had touched would have that influence culled. The Empire's aristocrats always loved such sights. It was something that had always been up in the upper echelons of Imperial history." _Black rock, red light and crimson. Too much. But never enough. Never enough for it to end._ Dolorosa felt like her voice was trying to sabotage her, becoming heavy as lead in her throat. "They did everything. They burned his chains to his wrists and let the sun scorch his hide. They made us watch." Another skip, couldn't stop. "But... He never broke. Nights of the torture and when the Grand Highblood finally thought he was finished, he allowed him a few words." 

_That purple giant looming over everything, too wide smile delighted with himself but- the look in his Crimson eyes. Over to Libaax whose voice had long since given out, then to the Jade. Jaw felt like it had been wound up into a vice, but it all came apart with that hard look. He managed a smile._ Dolorosa almost ignored the fact she came apart at the seems. At least until she felt her eyes started to water. "Oh, cursed-" The tears hit in full at their acknowledgement. Killing any ability to speak bar a choked desperate snarl. "I'm not some silver hided-" Her voice failed again, no will to try as she tried to contain it.

Leaving them there in an awkward silence suffused by the grotesque noise of her own half-contained sobbing.

"Sayrii did you even get a chance to grieve?"

"It's been an age." The growl came without any fire.

Not that that a feral Troll's hiss would have stopped Gael. She didn't even notice the hand snake up and wrap up behind her neck. "That's not what I asked and you know it." She pulled herself up, less than an inch of space between them and the Jade found herself confronted by Gael's misted glare. "I don't know specifics but I'm pretty sure things got really shitty for you right after. Really bad real quick."

She sighed, leaning her forehead against Dolorosa's. "If you never got to sort it out, it wasn't going to magically happen on its own. Like- how long was it between when you ended up on Mindfang's ship and Kadarn dying?"

"It was little more than..." _That filthy underdeck, chains rusted and the floor dimmed by brine._ "A little over a sweep. But-"

"But it doesn't feel like it."

Dolorsa found herself unable to say anything, and Gael didn't press any further. Leaving them in an awkward silence as the Jade slowly pulled herself back together.

"Yes." She finally managed. "You could say that."

"Do you want to keep going?"

"It isn't very fitting to stop this far in." Dolorosa clicked wiping her cheeks, still feeling simultaneously immature and almost decrepit.

"If you're sure." Gael pulled away, sinking back into Dolorosa's arms and resting her head against the Jade's chest. 

It took longer than she wanted to get herself back, both vocally and mentally. That space proving difficult to return to, mind jumping. _Before, to the stress tinted happiness. After, to the brine soaked misery. Didn't want to. Needed to. Couldn't afford to bend._ Needed to get this done. "Kadarn. Kadarn managed to get in what felt like a full sermon. Sounding furious, more than I'd ever seen him be. Before he was shot he... Forgave them. All of them, even the Grand Highblood. His anger wasn't born from hate, but sorrow. They could be better. That was the most frustrating part of all." _The crack of the shot. Hurts, more than if they'd killed her._ "They finally ended him. After all of that they just shot him. Square in the neck, just-" _Disciple screams, Psiioniic is only able to produce that strained gurgle. No noise left in her._

"Just like that. All his life he'd been with me, just for that." 

_All draining downwards. Just as bad as he'd imagined it could._

"They called him the Sufferer, it's... Taboo to give a Troll a second given name. Everyone, be they the Empress to the lowest peasant manure shoveler was only afforded a single given name. His had been Signless, his first name given to him by those first trolls he'd spoken to, a troll without a name bar the one I gave him and without a symbol. But 'Sufferer' caught on like fire in a dried field of roughage following his end. Just like the rest of the planet. When word hit the cities there and abroad of his defiance and unbroken word, the rebellion began. Marked by a symbol of those ghastly burning chains. All it took was one, one Troll fearless of the consequences in a slum to lead out a veritable horde, cities across Alternia burned. Nobles, midbloods took advantage, all of it turned to madness."

_All heard from beyond bars. Outside of the shackles, they look reckless. Lash out easy._

_The new collar is too heavy to do anything but take note of it in passing. That purple glare and the bite of the whip makes it easy to ignore. It isn't like the before, it's all misty and the sights dyed by the despair and exhaustion._

"Hmpf. Fighting broke out immediately even there. Some had been calling for culling from the start, and the blowback of the Highblood's decision sparked a riot. Jiixan vanished, dragged off. Libaax broke free and for a moment I thought the Executioner would end her too. He didn't, and the crowd swallowed her up. I was-" _Brine, but no motion. A ship meant for the stars that still skips along the water. Like a joke._ "I was dragged off too." 

"It just- blurs into a mess of drab colour and bitter salt after that. I know what happened, but my memory of it is clouded. Being a Jade, they weren't permitted to cull me so I ended up in chains. Auctioned off to a one Orphaner Dualscar. All the while Alternia started burning. Lowbloods, midbloods and even dissident highbloods rising up en-mass." _The others are scared, terrified in some cases. Try too keep them together. Failing. A little Lime no older than seven pushing that chained symbol into her hands. Could only stare at it in resignation before putting the necklace on. She doesn't even know the wigglers name, but her smile makes it feel like Dolorosa can get through another night._

_Lime all over the place. In her eyes. Whip is shredding her hand but this goes no further._

_The club hits her in the back of the head. Cowards._

_Dragged by the collar. Chained to that miserable wall too broken to even consider standing._ "Honestly even the end is hazen, I struggled as hard as I could, only to be beaten back down in the depths of that void ship the Orphaner dragged me to. All my effort, all my struggle. It all blew back in my face and there came a point where the only reason I stood was someone dragging me up by my collar. Only thing I had left was to try and spit into that vile rover's eye before he beat me again. Over and over. I just wanted him to cut to the chase and do it." Gael's grip tightened. "I remember the Marquise arriving on the ship, the Orphaner's Kismesii at the time. She made some paltry wager, eight to one odds against her for ownership of my person. I didn't even realize they were talking about me at first I was so broken and exhausted."

"Why?"

Mindfang had always craved rarity, leched upon strength. Dolorosa could likely imagine specifically 'why' she'd done it, but there was no reason to wear on her Other Half further after all of this. "Petty and spiteful reasons were I to guess. Dualscar took the gambit, always one to take gamble when it was in his favour." _The dice lands. But the Gamblignant is already laughing before it hits the ground._ "Through luck or treachery, Mindfang won the roll of the dice. And in his disdain, Dualscar shot me through the chest as I was about to unchained and pulled off his ship. Out of spite. I died."

 _The abruptness had barely picked up, turning and yanking off the rifle. Was it spite that had moved him? Likely, just as much as the Marquise had been moved by lechery. It hadn't even hurt, just level the archaic gun and the world had gone  
white._

She tried putting it plainly. But Gael still grimaced, holding onto her a little tighter. "You aren't dead now."

"Yes." Dolorosa sighed, a feeling of both relief and illness washing over her as she realized it was almost over. "I am very much alive now. But then I was made into a... Shade Maker, Colour Eater, Rainbow Drinker. All those worthless and useless legends to us, accursed as I am. A ghost that should have vanished. I 'returned' on Mindfang's ship, the very one you ended up on." She scoffed. "Well. I think you know the rest. So long spent trapped in that casket, a curiosity, a false matesprite, one that was abandoned and eventually forgotten. By the empire, by Mindfang when she grew bored with me and by everyone else. I know Dualscar threw so much mud on my return it was reduced too a sodden rumor, to the point I think he believed the lie he'd made himself and it was enough that no one came looking." 

"All those chained sweeps. It was just me alone. The occasional youth close until the Marquise would become possessive and wrench me to scare them off again or worse." 

"Until I met you, my dearest." 

Earth was simultaneously bigger than Alternia had ever been and both infuriatingly small. Titanic when she remembered just what was out there, and diminutive in how much of that world could reach them. Possessiveness was a terrible habit but Dolorosa found herself unable to do anything but hold her Other Half close. 

They were left to themselves, as a slow unpleasant polorization slowly worked through Dolorosa, a feeling that she being cut apart from the inside out. All of that and for what? For it to follow her here after she was freed, not by her fellow Trolls but herself and an alien? With so many certainties slain outright in the following sweep alone? 

Gael's voice cut through the ugly meditations. "Thank you. For trusting me with this Rosa."

"Does that make sense of things?"

"A lot of things. Yea." The gentle nod was felt rather than seen.

The tears came again, but this time she didn't crack fully. Simultaneously both glad she'd said it and yet... "I think I understand my fear now. I saw the greater world catch onto my... What to a human might as well have been my 'family' as it were. I saw the Empress rip it apart before me, trying to flaccidly undo the damage my son had wrought. I saw him die, and I saw everyone else I loved be dragged from me. All of it worth absolutely nothing when Alternia ended up ripping itself apart with the Speaker's death knell. Like the entire universe was laughing at our pathetic squabbling."

"I- I think they're out there dearest. My little Libaax. Jiixan. Oh Void, they might be on this planet with us. I- I'm so happy if they're alive but-" Her voice caught up again, tears flowing freely now but she couldn't find it in herself to feel anymore disgust. "I'm terrified that it will happen again. If I return I'll only make them a greater target and something will just- happen. Something monstrous and cruel will chance upon our happiness and tear us apart again. I'm terrified I'll lose them again. And if it did I'd- I'd lose you. I'd drag you into it. Recreant void only knows what that incident at the arena did to your name." 

_The crack of the alien's body breaking made her quake in her seat. Unable to contain the shriek when she spots her on the floor. The Marquise beating down closer and closer. Aiming to kill. All she can do is watch._ The memories almost made her break there, unable to hide the quake in her voice. "Bad Blood! After all this, if word got out you yet live, there are Trolls that will try to kill you! I can't do that again- I don't know if that makes me a recreant joke or a loathly scold but-" 

"I can't lose everything again. I'll perish if I lose you." She managed with the last clear breath she had before the wracking sob took her. Dolorosa choked on herself, trying and failing to get a hold on herself as Gael took it in. It felt cruel, twisted to put this on her but-

Sayrii just couldn't. The too many painful possibilities just stole the life from her bones and the little warmth she had left.

Gael didn't press, sitting there beside her and slowly waiting as the Jade got a handle of herself. Slowly she pulled away sitting up on the arm rest, but her hand never left Sayrii's shoulder. Look firm but unreadable. 

"After all of that? I couldn't hold it against you if you wanted to find a deserted island to shack up on. That's- fuck, that's the rawest deal I've heard of. And I explicitly searched out a load of people who got raw deals when I was trying to..." Her hand finally fell away, hanging between them for a second. Ending as she balled her hand into a fist and clapped it on her chest. "Figure out things about myself. If you want to just- Like- Leave and hide, then I'm with you. And I would never think less of you because of it."

Before Sayrii could say anything Gael abruptly started. "Fuck. This is going to sound stupid but-" Her hand reached out, but in her current state she'd lost track of the Jade and it hung in the air until Sayrii took it, Gael sighing. "When you talked about- about the good times you eased out. Libaax. Jiixan. Kadarn. You cared a lot, you still care about them a lot. Like- I felt you actually relaxing when you thought about them. And from the sound of it, you were pretty fucking important to them, as much as they were to you." Her voice turned bitter, but with an odd deliriousness that came whenever she spoke about herself. "Like- I'm some punchline to a cosmic joke while you- well- you're you. And- if you'll permit me to swing at this with the Ouroboros that is my stupid intuition- For all the risks and bullshit and problems and everything else, you deserve to see them again and to reconnect. If there was anyone on this planet who was due for settling and closure it's you. And in spite of all the fucking bullshit I think it would be worth it. But whatever you do, I'm with you."

"What about you?" The question escaped her before she could stop it.

Gael scoffed. "What about me?"

"If... If my past catches up to me, what would you want? I-"

"I'll stick with you until your past stabs me in the face." Sayrii hissed reflexively, not that it did her any good. If anything it turned the sightless girl indignant. "Rosa I've got nothing. Except for you."

Sayrii's hissing tapered, a reflexive desire to prove her wrong slowly grinding to little. Reverting to tracts they'd covered in passing but never fully. "What of your genetic relations?"

"I thought about it. I don't care if they made it out. Because they wouldn't care if I made it out. There's..." She stopped, voice tapering off as she shook her head. "There were three of them I liked, and they passed a while back. Rest of them will spit on my memorial."

There was an excessiveness to it, but slowly Sayrii realized she was serious.

Gael was adamant and it turned the Jade's gut. "Forgive me. I knew it wasn't a happy place that led you to... Me, dearest. Is there really nothing at all?"

"Everything I owned is ash, junked or looted. Like- before you got me- I probably felt most complete when the ground forces were trying to melt me down to my bones. There's the people I fought beside down here. But- I've got no idea if they even made it. I think they did, but I've got no way of knowing and in my state I'm not exactly able to search. And-" Another noise that might have been a laugh, though this one made the Jade shiver. "Fuck I think I'd die if they saw me like this. I said I'd... y'know..."

The imperial cycle had a nasty way of repeating itself. "Perish. Before they got their example."

Gael nodded. "I promised I would die before I let Troll soldiers get me. So they wouldn't get rip me apart for the masses. Fucked that right up."

An actual laugh, absolutely humorless and more corpsish than Dolorsa in a bad moment. "Funny right? You've got a whole world going on and I've got nothing. 'Cept you and a desire to get some new parts."

How disgusting the Jade was. "If I left tomorrow, you'd be at my side?"

"Yea. No matter what." She manages to smile.

It really didn't feel fair.

At best she felt inadequate for the human holding onto her and Sayrii did not even want to consider the deep end of that equation. But now wasn't the time for self-pity.

"Thank you." She managed. 

"Feel better?"

Sayrii didn't respond with words, instead leaning over and gently pressing her head against Gael's. Purring from the chest.

"Good."

( ◉ )

Gael woke to the noise of what could be best described as 'distressed cow mooing.'

Except it wasn't really waking. The feeling of wrongness, the tint of sand under her and the aforementioned distressed fairy cow sounds quickly made it apparent she was 'back.' Back to that twisted memory that shouldn't exist and she shouldn't be present for. Head hurt like it was going to split open but the growing awareness of the very small very anxious creature fluttering at her head allowed Gael to ignore the pain.

"I'm not dead yet." Gael croaked as she pulled herself up out of the sand, the noise of wind and the distant crackle of a fire nowhere near as pressing as the fairy cow snorting above her. The diminutive huffs of the bovine turning from distressed to indignant as it finally came to rest on Gael's barren shoulder. Furious she'd worried the little thing. "Oh shush you." She grunted and scratched the odd lusus. Stumbling to her feet and listening.

Pinpointing the fire, feeling warm Alternian wind blowing on her back. Whatever was responsible for 'this' at least had let her keep the rough toga she'd been gifted last. 

It had been a long, long while since she'd been here. And though it still felt wrong to be here Gael abandoned the idea it was incidental. Dolorosa's story had confirmed her worst suspicions. This was terribly intentional, but the how, who and why remained completely out of her reach. She'd have a better chance of getting to the moon these days than finding out any answers. Leaving her alone in a fucked up dream with nothing but a fairy cow and what could only be Sayrii's... Son? 

Whatever he was, he'd mattered to the Jade. That was enough for Gael.

Gael abandoned the idea of dwelling on it and began stumbling over to the noise of the fire. 

Catching two dimmed voices but unable to catch anything more. 

Remembering that these two still didn't have a translator between them because why would they be able to get a translator. Oh sure, Gael got to keep her crippling but she couldn't keep a tiny hunk of chitin and tech in her ear. Thank you enigmatic entity with a sick sense of humor.

Rounded something. Maybe their tent. Voices became clear but their chittering stopped outright. " _Bad blood! It feels like every-time she pulls that vanishing act she comes back with less parts._ " It sounded like it was Kadarn, not his mirror speaking as the rustle of clothes came, standing?

The opposite chittered quietly. " _At least she comes back._ "

" _Think she's psionic?_ " Gael stopped, listening on.

" _What else could it be?_ "

"Oh. Fuck it." Gael grumbled clasping a hand on the fairy bull before it's indignant snort could begin as she stumbled towards Kadarn's voice. The tiny horned head butting against her hand indignantly. 

" _Xael?_ " His click let her locate him. A few steps away, cleared without much effort as she got used to moving on sand again. 

What a fucking nightmare they'd been through. Sayrii, Kadarn. Deserved better than this. Just about everyone did. She felt him standing there, breathing low, but with a tint that felt concerned. A certain motion to it. One she'd come to associate with his guardian.

One last step forward. Tapping hand finding his flank and finally stumbling into a hug. Awkward. Makeshift. But at least it didn't trigger that recursive 'burning to death' feeling again. Kadarn jerked at the abrupt embrace. " _Oh!_ " But almost immediately he returned it, she felt the fairy bull leave her shoulder as they just stood there. His clicking turning remorseful. " _I'm- I'm terribly sorry, I can't stop this._ "

She sighed. "S' fine."

" _We'll escape this place, I swear it._ " She knew what he was saying, and it broke Gael's heart a little.

For now though, all she could do was be there for them.


End file.
